


The Secret You'll Never Tell

by Latigra



Series: Persona 5 Canon Divergence Fics [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira's Family - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon, Betrayal, Bisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Psychopathic Tendencies, Texting, Video Game Mechanics, anger issues, background OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latigra/pseuds/Latigra
Summary: It all went to hell at the casino, but Akira had been pretending everything was fine. Fake something long enough, and it became true.Set in an alternate canon where the "temporary death serum" worked.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Kurusu Akira & Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann
Series: Persona 5 Canon Divergence Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023718
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a good deal of time outlining a P5 fic, and then I wrote this instead to distract myself from the fact that it was Labor Day Weekend and the plague confined me to my apartment. 
> 
> As usual, my friend Ro helped me edit. Would not have been legible otherwise.

There was a new poster at the train station about an American comedian that was stopping by Shibuya on a comedy tour. Akira didn’t remember the name, but he had been taking English since his abrupt school transfer. He’d picked up enough of the language to understand the tagline: _Life Comes at You Fast!_ For real, random American comedian. Akira would know better than most.

He had liked his life, before the thing with Shido. Go to school, get good grades to keep his parents off his back, blow off some steam on the soccer field, hang out with his one friend to deal with the absolute boredom of it all. The Kurusu family was decently well-off, so he never had any reason to worry about food or shelter. The greatest complication of his life prior to the assault charges had been hitting puberty and discovering, to his infinite annoyance, that he would much rather fool around with his designated best friend rather than the girls in his class.

Not the girls weren’t pretty, but talking them into doing anything required so much _work_. For reasons that he didn’t entirely blame them for; Akira wasn’t unreasonable. He could see what happened to girls who got labeled as whores. Boys were no easier, since homosexuality was another thing that people inexplicably got all torn up about. As far as Akira could tell, the entire prospect of sex was a tedious complication, whether it was with men or women. Having a preference for either was inexplicable, akin to having a strong preference for tangerines over oranges.

He had been wavering about the whole thing, trying to decide if some kind of religious vow of celibacy would work for him, when he’d witnessed Shido trying to assault that woman. The rest was. . . well, he couldn’t really call it history, since it wasn’t over yet. At least he couldn’t remember the last time he had been bored.

He’d been downright exhilarated for the first few palaces. Ryuji and Morgana looked up to him, and then Ann was actually paying attention to him. There were no girls like Ann back home, but if there had been, they wouldn’t have paid attention to someone like Akira. Boring, plain Akira who had no fashion sense and stared blankly every time someone pointed a camera at him. He still remembered his parents' twin looks of shock when the prosecutor explained he’d been found guilty of assaulting a member of the Diet.

 _I couldn’t believe what the fuck was happening either, Dad,_ he thought, as he scrolled through the schedule he’d been keeping to help with confidant business.

This part of it had seemed fun at first, too. He was going to hang out with Ryuji regardless, so getting little Metaverse boosts had been a nice bonus. Morgana literally lived with him, so that was fine, too. And what boy wouldn’t want to hang out with Ann? Takemi put him off at first, but she was a doctor. She wouldn’t do any permanent damage with her “clinical trials”. Besides, he needed her meds to carry out the palace infiltrations.

That had snowballed, too, to the point that Akira needed a goddamn spreadsheet to keep track of all the people whose lives he was supposed to fix. Shynia would be at Akihabara today. How was Akira supposed to steer the little monster in the right direction? Was he supposed to make the vicious little brat happy? Or was he supposed to teach him that the world was shitty enough without asshole grade school bullies running amok?

He was in no mood for that nonsense. Maybe Ryuji had time to hang out again. He opened his messaging app to text Ryuji and noticed that Ann had sent him a message.

 **> >>Ann**  
U wanna come over??  
😘😛💦💦💦🍆  
I’m lonely tonight

Okay, that probably wasn’t what it looked like. Emoji communication was not Akira’s strong suit. That being said, he should investigate. For the good of the team.

 **> >>Akira**  
I’ll be right over

“Morgana, I need you to stay with Futaba today,” he said to his bag. “Ann said she needs to talk to me privately.”

“Okay, fine,” hissed Morgana. “But only because it’s Lady Ann asking.”

A part of Akira felt bad about his frequent fantasies of hooking up with Ann, since Morgana insisted she was, like, the love of his life or something. A very small part. When the chips were down, Akira was a teenage boy, and Ann was . . . Well, she was _Ann_ , with her blue eyes and slightly curly blond hair, always dressed in blood-red leggings that brought attention to legs that went on _forever_. A literal model. In real-life magazines. And her outfit in the Metaverse, sweet merciful heaven. She was also a genuinely kind person too, but his dick was not concerned with that. Akira didn't even pretend that his "appreciation" of her beauty was "aesthetic", like Yusuke did.

Though Yusuke was weird enough he was probably not even lying about that. He'd said a pair of _lobsters_ were as beautiful as Ann.

Anyway.

Even when he got to Ann's house and found her waiting in a red, kinda see-through lingerie, he'd just blushed and assumed that - somehow - he was still misreading the situation. He stared at her with wide eyes, feeling half his blood rush to his cheeks and the rest of it flood his dick.

"Well?" She'd struck a sexy pose, or tried to, anyway. It'd worked because. . . Well, _Ann_. Any other girl would have looked silly.

Akira opened his mouth, had to cough past the knot in his throat, and said "Is this a test?"

"No!" Ann cried. She tried to pose more, but the look on his face must have prompted her to hug her large breasts and turn away from him.

Akira looked away. If she didn't really want him to look at her. . .

"I mean. . . " Ann sighed. "Kind of? It is for me."

"Huh?"

"I just wanted to see if I could seduce someone," said Ann.

"Ah, the answer is a definitive yes," said Akira, looking up at her. Then he looked down again, laughing nervously. "Do you mind putting something on?"

"Oh, definitely not," said Ann. "Wait here."

Akira groaned the moment Ann ran to her room and plopped down on the living room futon. His dick wept - not in a good way - and screamed that he was a traitor of the highest order. If a girl called you to her apartment and waited for you in sexy lingerie, you didn’t stare at her like a nauseous imbecile.

But Ann was not just "a girl". She was one of his confidants - a fellow Phantom Thief, no less. She lived alone because her parents were too busy with their fashion business bullshit in New York, had survived leering, stalking, and borderline sexual abuse by an asshole gym teacher mere months ago, and was still sorting out her own sexuality (working it out for real, unlike Akira, who’d figured it out pretty quickly, then put it away in a mental box to never think about again). Akira cared too much about Ann not to investigate why she suddenly wanted to have sex with him, out of the blue.

 _I hate you,_ said his dick.

Ann rushed back into the living room, face as red as her lingerie and wearing an oversized, long-sleeved sweater that fell just above her knees. She was still _Ann,_ though, so it was just a different flavor of painfully hot.

 _I really fucking despise you,_ said his dick.

"I'm so sorry, Akira," said Ann, barely looking at him. "I just wanted to be a better femme fatale, and I _thought_ I’d caught you looking at me a few times."

"Only a few?" asked Akira, impressed at his own discretion.

"Yeah, I- Wait." Ann glared down at him, suddenly suspicious. "If you _do_ think I'm sexy, why didn't it work?"

 _Tell her it did, you moron,_ screamed his dick. Maybe it was a Persona. _There's still time to salvage this!_

Akira sighed, wished he wasn't so nice, and looked up at her. "Do you like me like that, Ann? At all?"

"Yeah!" said Ann.

Akira kept looking at her.

"I mean. . ." She hesitated, looked away a bit. "Well, you are hot. And soooo cool. I mean, Joker is."

"Thanks," said Akira.

"I didn't mean it like that," Ann said quickly. She made a frustrated noise and plopped down next to him on the futon. It was a testament to just how much she trusted him that the embarrassment was gone and she was ready to confide in him like his friend.

Like a confidant.

"It's okay, Ann," he said. "I'm not mad."

 _I'm furious,_ said his dick.

"I know," said Ann, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know what I'm doing, and I know you won't be mean about it."

Geez, he was supposed to be good at this talking thing. But he didn't even know where to start. He wasn't a girl. Why couldn't Ryuji be the one doing something like this?

Thankfully, Ann took his silence as permission to go on.

"Remember when I said I wanted to use my looks for the benefit of the team? To be a femme fatale?"

"Yeah."

"Well, all the femme fatale are really good at seducing guys, right? And not just because they coast by on their looks, either. They're good at sex."

"They're also not sixteen," said Akira.

"Whatever, I'm gonna be seventeen soon," said Ann. "They had to get good somehow. Someone must have taught them."

"And you think I can teach you?"

"Can't you?"

"I've never had sex," said Akira.

Ann turned her big, blue eyes on him. "Oh. But you're so cool."

"Not really." Akira shrugged, smiling a little sadly. "Joker is cool. I'm just a random dude with a criminal record."

"Oh, Akira." She sighed and pulled him into a comforting but decidedly non-sexual hug.

He put his arms around her waist and hugged back.

"What happened to you is so unfair," she said.

"I know." Cuddling was nice, and not liable to implode their friendship or his ability to create powerful personas of the Lovers arcana. Win, win.

They cuddled for a good while in comfortable silence, Akira rubbing gentle circles at the small of her back.

“I was thinking about what happened with. . . _him_ ,” whispered Ann.

“Akechi?” asked Akira, just to be sure. Just because he was obsessed with the bastard didn’t mean all his friends were.

“Yeah,” said Ann. “I was just wondering if there was anything I could have done to stop him. Like maybe if he’d liked me, or at least thought I was hot or something, he might not have killed Haru’s dad.”

“Ann. . .” Akira didn’t know how to say what needed to be said while protecting Ann’s confidence. “It wasn’t your fault. I spent weeks trying to butter him up, and he shot me in the head.”

Akira still couldn’t get over it, how Akechi had turned on him, pointed a gun at his head while thinking him defenseless, and pulled the fucking trigger. Not a microsecond of hesitation. Just an ugly smirk, his true face. _I win,_ it said. Then, _bang_. Until that very last second, Akira had been sure the bastard would come to his senses. Or that their confidant link would kick in and at least give him a chance to persuade the fucker.

“You’re not the one on the team that’s supposed to seduce people,” said Ann.

Akira blinked at the ceiling. “Point,” he said, because there was no way to explain that, actually, he had supernatural seduction powers. Of a sort.

“We knew he was a spy from the very beginning,” said Ann, pulling out of his embrace to lay on the futon next to him. “I wanted to talk to him more, but I was afraid he would just think I’m a dumb bimbo.”

“Uh.” That was exactly what Akechi would have thought. No, Ann’s acting was so abysmal that he would have seen right through her instantly.

During the entire infiltration of Sae’s casino, Akira almost gave himself an ulcer imagining the other Thieves blowing it. Ryuji and Ann most of all, admittedly for different reasons. What had Akira said again, multiple times? _Just let me handle Akechi, okay? I’ll distract him._ Then he’d gone on to spend the month showing off, bantering, playing billiards, and talking bullshit. What had he gotten for all his troubles? A fucking bullet between the metaphysical eyeballs.

“Akechi was a different level of sick,” said Akira. “”Like, beyond our help.”

“Yeah, I gathered that once he started ranting about killing his dad, but only _after_ helping him achieve world domination,” said Ann. “I’m not saying I could have fixed him. Just, get him our side, maybe? He was so strong; I bet he could have helped us beat Shido.”

That was harder to argue with, since Akira himself had been having similar thoughts since Shido’s election. Since before that, if he was being honest. Even crazy as he had been, Akechi had been strong enough to hold his own in a fight against all the Phantom Thieves. He’d had years of experience in the Metaverse. Fuck only knew how much knowledge he’d taken to his grave.

“And he was so pretty too,” said Ann.

“Was he?” Akira feared that he wasn't objective about that.

“Not in the middle of his unhinged meltdown, but before,” said Ann. “Would it have been so difficult to just flirt with him a little?”

For Ann? Yes, it would have been. For all her beauty, Ann was horrifically bad at flirting. Maybe _because_ of her beauty. From what Akira could tell, she’d been getting unwanted attention from men for a very long time. She didn’t _need_ to be good at flirting.

"You know," Ann said eventually, turning over to huddle close to his chest, "we could still practice."

"Practice what?" asked Akira, trying to sound nonchalant. But his heart stuttered.

Which Ann could hear, because her head was lying on his chest.

"Sex stuff," said Ann, voice muffled against his shirt.

"Are you sure?" asked Akira.

 _What are you doing?_ yelled his dick.

"I am," said Ann.

Okay, Akira wasn't a saint. Gently, he slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her head up. A blush tinted her cheeks, and Akira was surprised to realize that _he_ wasn't blushing anymore. It was like a bit of the Joker slipped into him. He gave her a small, confident smile and dipped his head to kiss her.

Akira hadn’t been a total pariah back in his old school, before the clusterfuck with the assault charges. He'd kissed a few girls, so in this one area, he wouldn't embarrass himself.

Ann was a quick learner, quicker than Akira expected. In a matter of seconds, she had a hand in his hair and was nibbling on his lower lip. Akira let her take the lead, guessing that she wanted to be in control. She sighed, angled his head the way she wanted it, and climbed on top of him.

Tentatively, he put his hand above her knee, partly over her sweater. She made an approving noise, and he took that as permission to slip a hand under her sweater to caress her thigh.

"Good boy," she mumbled, and whoa.

Okay.

Akira made a guttural noise and moved his hand higher, still to the side and fairly away from her groin. Her skin was so wonderfully soft; he would tell her if only he could come up with a sexy way to say it.

Instead, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked on it softly, and he bucked upwards.

She froze.

Right, his dick. He might have forgotten about it, but it was hard as a rock.

"Sorry," he said. Then, he blushed at how deep his voice sounded.

"No, that means it's working," she said, laughing a little nervously.

"Do you want to stop?" Akira forced himself to ask.

"No, I. . ." Ann swallowed. "Take your shirt off!"

Akira hurried to comply. He hurried so much that he almost knocked her off of him, but whatever. She yelped, then looked at his chest appreciatively.

"Oh, wow, you're ripped!"

Akira smirked. "I was on the soccer team back in my hometown." And he'd been doing pull-ups to help with their palace escapades for months, but that wasn't important right now. She gave him another approving smile, then dipped down to kiss him.

He let her kiss him for a while, moaned when she grinded on his lap, then started pressing wet kisses along her jawline, ending up nibbling at her earlobe. If only he’d read more romance novels or something. He doubted sleazy internet porn was an accurate depiction for what girls might like.

Ann leaned back to pull her sweater over her head. Akira stopped breathing, a dumb thought about how she might get cold interrupting his thoughts. He reached for her breast with a bit of hesitation, but she grabbed his arm and guided him. He pulled on her nipples gently, unsure of how much pressure to apply without making it painful.

He only had porn to go by, but it should be close enough. With a blush, he leaned forward and put his mouth over her nipple. He felt silly tasting the satin of her bra, but she carded her fingers through his hair and kneaded his head. Akira ignored how silly he felt and started sucking.

She moaned and grinded down on his lap.

Okay, it wasn’t silly if she liked it.

He kept at it, alternating between his fingers and his mouth and trying to pay attention to what she liked. A little teeth was okay, kneading too hard was a no-go.

“Can I take off the bra?” he asked, out of breath for some reason.

Ann nodded, reached to unclasp it. It didn’t make sense, why two mounds of what was essentially fat and skin looked so good, but they did. Blond tresses fell over her peaked nipples, and Akira wondered if she felt that after he’d had his hands and mouth all over them. He reached over to thumb one of them, got carried away and caressed her sides, and noticed that her tiny red panties looked wet.

For a second, he imagined her doing this to herself in her room, and whoa. He better stop fantasizing when he had the real thing on his lap or he might shoot his load long before getting her naked, and then he’d have to fake his own death to deal with the shame.

“They told me it’s supposed to hurt,” said Ann, a little hesitantly.

“Just tell me if it does, and I’ll stop,” said Akira, reaching for the panties. Somehow. He’d figure it out.

They didn’t get that far, because by the time Akira got his fingers _inside_ her, holy hell, he realized that he didn’t bring condoms, because _why the hell would he?_ He thought he’d gotten the message wrong. Virgin thug that he supposedly was. He told his dick to be quiet, focused on her face, on the way she trembled as he moved his hand gently. The porn did focus on a woman’s body some; he knew it was a good sign that she was wet and slippery. He moved his thumb upward, looking for the bud that older boys talked about in locker rooms, but stopped abruptly when she seemed to freeze.

“No, go on!” she said, reaching down to lay her hand over his, and finally, some guidance. He rubbed over her clit, until she wailed at him and pulled his hand away, panting. “Oh, wow!”

“Good?” asked Akira.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wet. “Your turn.”

“Mine is easier,” said Akira, spreading his legs. Then he remembered he had his pants on, and it turned out that there wasn’t a not-awkward way to pull them off. He hoped his dick wasn’t funny-looking or anything. It certainly wasn’t as big as what he’d seen in porn, but that might be for the best.

Ann did look like the girls in porn - better, even. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of his league.

“Oh, I think I can work with this,” she said, sounding relieved.

So then, she’d also assessed that he wasn’t as big as the porn guys. “Awesome,” said Akira.

She looked up at him, smirking a little. “I’ve seen this in movies,” she said.

Then she put her mouth _on his dick_ , and his brain kinda blanked out as some kind of defense mechanism, because he was sure he would die. Dimly, he noticed that her mouth was warm, wet, and she sucked on the tip and he made the most pathetic, wheezy sound.

“Oh my God,” he said, like some kind of idiot in a comedy. She looked up at him, still smirking, and tried to take him in a little deeper.

Akira looked away, put his arm over his eyes, and let her do what she was going to do, trying as hard as possible to think unsexy thoughts. Sojiro, rotten curry, the tentacle-looking Shadows, Kamoshida. . . Ann couldn’t quite get him all the way in, but his cock hit the back of her throat and made her gag. And he felt bad about that, but also, he literally almost cried, because it was so good. He laid a hand on her head, intending to caress her hair or something that might be romantic, but with the way things were going, he’d just grab a fistful of her blond locks reflexibly and hurt her.

So he pulled his hand back and fisted her futon while she worked, gasping when she wrapped a hand around the part that wouldn’t fit in her mouth. She started sucking, and Akira just started counting backwards. He didn’t know why he was resisting, except that he was supposed to last as long as possible without coming for some reason he couldn’t remember at the moment. His masculine honor, or something.

 _Think unsexy thoughts, come on._ Of the Shadows. His shitty non-friends from his hometown. His parents abandoning him literally the first time he “caused trouble” in his entire fucking life. The stink of rotting food in the subway. Ugly people doing this to him. Madarame’s Shadow doing this to him. Akechi doing this to him.

His brain conjured up an image for that last one. Reddish hair and impish smile. He looked down at his lap, but Ann was far away all of a sudden. He remembered going to get candy at that cafe with Akechi, when he was pretending to be the sweet, affable detective, and he’d licked cream off his lower lip.

“Ann, I’m gonna-”

She paused, but it was too late. His whole world blanked, short-circuited, with a strange amalgamation of Ann and _Akechi_ dancing somewhere in the back of his mind. Next thing he knew, Ann was coughing and making gagging noises next to him.

“That does _not_ taste good,” she cried.

“Sorry,” said Akira, feeling a little horrified. A lot horrified. “Can I get you some water?” Though his legs felt a little wobbly. That was fine, though.

“No, it’s okay,” said Ann, breathing hard. “I did it!”

“Yeah,” said Akira. Then, he laughed, hoping he didn’t sound as hysterical as he felt.

Ann started laughing, too. She laid on his chest, and they laughed and giggled away all the excess energy they had. He tilted his head and kissed her, grimacing because, yeah, that wasn’t exactly sweet. Maybe he was eating too many Big Bang Burgers.

“You want me to do it back?” he asked.

“Maybe later,” she said.

Akira tried to decide if he should be relieved or mildly offended that she didn’t seem to think he could get it right.

Well, that had gone better than expected, regardless. He couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't been as good for Ann as it had been for him, but she wasn't upset or disappointed. There was no way she was a good enough actress to fake it.

She giggled next to him.

"Thanks," said Akira.

"Oh, I wasn't laughing at you," she said quickly.

"I know," said Akira. "I really mean thanks."

She laughed more, and then he laughed more, and it was nice. It was more than nice. He didn't think he loved Ann that way, or that she loved him that way, either, but it felt good. He'd do this as often as she let him, for the easy feeling in his muscles alone. When was the last time he'd been so relaxed?

His phone vibrated - maybe for the hundredth time, for all he knew. He'd been a little occupied. Reluctantly, he reached for it. And winced. Thirty-six messages in total, from seven different people. For a criminal, he had an active social life.

"I have to go," he said to Ann, mentally cringing. "Sorry, I would have cleared my schedule, but this was. Unexpected."

"I know," said Ann. "I'll give you more notice next time."

A grin took over his face. There _would_ be a next time.

He dressed quickly, Ann watching him lazily, getting up only when he was about to head for the door with only the sweater wrapped around her for some measure of modesty.

"Hey, is it cool if we keep this between us?" she asked.

"I was planning to tell the whole school," said Akira. Then mentally kicked himself.

The color drained from Ann's face, and he remembered. Everything.

"I'm sorry, terrible joke," he said, breathless, showing the palms of his hands as though she had a gun on him. "I'll take it to my grave, I swear."

Ann tried to laugh, but it came out as a near sob, and she punched his shoulder. Since she was just a regular girl outside the Metaverse, he barely felt it.

“Ann-”

"Ugh, get out!" she yelled.

Akira opened his mouth, ready to beg for forgiveness if that's what it took, but some instinct told him to nod and leave. Ann slammed the door shut behind him, and Akira leaned back. He had a suspicion that Ann would be crying behind the door.

_What kind of asshole are you, man?_

His conscience that time, not his dick.

"Fuck," he mumbled under his breath.

How had he forgotten that Ann struggled with countless rumors about being a slut? That their entire dumb school had blamed her for Kamoshida - one of her goddamn teachers - perving on her for months? That everyone said that being part American meant that she was just naturally some kind of Western whore with unnaturally large breasts? He'd heard most of the rumors personally, for fuck's sake.

So then he'd gone and "joked" with her that. . . what? She'd called the school delinquent and asked him to fuck her? Even though that was exactly what had happened, it wasn't, really. Ann hadn't done anything wrong.

His phone vibrated again.

There was no point in dwelling on his colossal stupidity. Ann needed her space, and he still had a mission. They all did. More than ever.

Speaking of Akechi. . . thinking about him to cool himself off had kind of backfired spectacularly, hadn’t it?

That had probably been a coincidence. Akechi was pretty; Ann had said so herself. Only he would be dumb enough to think about a hot person while trying to cool himself off. Right. That made sense. Thinking of Ryuji or Yusuke would have had a similar effect.

Of course, neither of them had shot Akira in the head. But it didn’t matter anyway, because Akechi was dead.

He chose to hang out with Mishima that evening, since the kid was so desperate for even mildly positive attention that it wouldn't take much to strengthen their bond. A predatory thought, but again. They had a mission. Mishima would be delighted if he knew the profound benefits he was providing for the Phantom Thieves. As expected, just spending a few hours with him improved Akira’s ability to share experiences with his backup teammates in the cognitive world.

 _I feel like I'm playing the weirdest video game,_ he thought, as he scrolled down his list of confidants.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Ann, already maxed out for all the special perks. She had been for weeks now, one of the first confidants he'd forged a permanent bond with. Considering they'd had sex, he’d expected it to have boosted just a little bit, anyway. Then again, he'd gone ahead and said the stupidest fucking thing imaginable afterwards, so he should probably be grateful that he hadn't completely destroyed their bond.

Right there on the train back home, he worked up the courage to message.

 **> >>Akira**  
I'm really sorry about what I said  
I'm fucking stupid  
I won't tell anyone ever, I swear

 **> >>Ann**  
No u were right  
I shouldn't care what they say  
They’re assholes and their opinions don't matter

God, what a relief that she was talking to him.

 **> >>Akira**  
You're entitled to privacy

 **> >>Ann**  
But I shouldn't be embarrassed of u thats not fair  
You’re amazing

Wait, what?

Then, Akira remembered. His criminal record. Ann probably wasn't worried that people would call her a slut - they did already; she was probably used to it. But as far as Akira knew, no one thought she would fuck any piece of trash delinquent.

 **> >>Akira**  
I still won't say anything

He put the phone on silent and put it away after that last message. The last thing he wanted was to spend the evening reassuring Ann that, no, it was totally okay not to want people to think that her boyfriend, or even occasional hook-up, was, ancestors help them, a criminal. Again, he wasn't a saint.

Morgana could tell that he was in a bad mood, but he refused to say why and did calisthenics in his room until he got exhausted enough to sleep. At one point, he remembered Ann's surprised comment about his being in shape and had to fight back uncharitable thoughts. And failed.

_You better be as hot as possible if you want to make it worth it for girls to touch you._

Ugh. How dramatic.

He slept well despite it all.

Still, he was nervous on the way to school. And got more nervous when Ann walked into class and could barely look him in the eye. She fidgeted on her seat, which he could observe in detail, since her assigned desk was right in front of his. Maybe she felt his gaze on the green shamrock on her white hoodie while their teacher droned on about math.

He had to let her know it wasn't that big a deal. Which it wasn't, no matter how pissed and dejected he felt. His own parents didn't want anything to do with him, so why would some girl?

That wasn't fair, either. Ann wasn't just _some girl_.

He sighed, alerting Morgana about his continued foul mood. He got the cat's soft paws kneading his elbow for his trouble, which he ignored.

After class, Ann leaned over and searched his gaze. "Could we hang out today?"

A few options popped up in his mind, all vaguely shitty. He could say something suggestive, self-deprecating, or just monosyllabic. He settled for the truth. "Sorry, I have plans with Ryuji today."

"Then, I'd like to stay with Lady Ann," Morgana piped in, from his hiding spot.

That worked fine, both to distract Akira from Ann's sad look and to give him a little privacy with Ryuji. They had to wait awkwardly until most students had wandered out of the classroom, then got close to transfer Morgana to Ann’s bag. The remaining classmates noticed, so rumors about them would circulate. Everything they did was cause for speculation, though for slightly different reasons. There was no point in hurrying, or not looking at Ann’s wide blue eyes while they stood close together.

“You probably shouldn’t stand this close to me,” said Akira, because he was a dick sometimes. “What will people say?”

“I don’t care,” whispered Ann, but she couldn’t suppress a blush.

“Why would they say anything?” asked Morgana.

Akira shushed him, gently scratching behind his ears, then leaned back and walked around Ann. As expected, there were students looking their way, making token attempts to be discreet. Akira smirked, feeling like he really was Joker, if only for a second.

He spotted Ryuji’s bleached hair out in the hallway, by the usual spot, and walked over and greeted him with a fistbump. The thing with Ann would work out one way or the other. He would apologize, or she would, or they both would, and then everything between them would be fine. With all the shit going on, getting caught up in dumb gossip drama would be the height of stupidity.

“It’s cold as shit today,” said Ryuji, as they walked out. “Wanna just go to my place and play video games?”

“Sure.”

They got more suspicious looks on the way out, their classmates gazing at them with anything from curiosity to fear. It hadn’t been this bad since spring, when his arrival at Shujin had been all anyone seemed to care about. Then, it all started going to hell - Kamoshida’s abuse was revealed, the Phantom Thieves took over the actual news after the Madarame scandal, then Akechi’s pursuit of the once-popular Phantom Thieves, the yakuza, then Shido’s election. . . Who would pay attention to some random teen criminals going about their loitering and vandalism, annoying everyone by trying to study in the library like normal people?

They’d failed in the end. All of them - even Akechi. Shido had managed to retain all his shitty impulses even after they’d stolen his Treasure and gone on to become Japan’s prime minister. Akira had expected some kind of apocalypse, and maybe that had been the stupidest part of it all. As far as they could tell, the country shambled on, with all its corruption and abuses of power. They still had their Personas and the means to travel to the Metaverse, but it turned out that a group of dumb teenagers stood no chance against Japan’s culture of fascistic bullshit. The news insisted that everything was getting better already, but no one had bothered to alert the furious Shadows down in Mementos. Trips down to Mementos were growing more dangerous, as though the public’s anxiety was close to a boiling point.

And now, people were bored enough that the only thing they could do was gape at the school delinquents. Or maybe they had never stopped, and Akira had been the one distracted. He might ask Ryuji if everyone was being shittier than usual. Later, after they had more privacy.

As usual, Ryuji’s mom was delighted to see Akira. More than his own mother had ever been, as far as Akira could remember. She beamed as Ryuji dragged Akira to his small room, and Akira’s strange powers alerted him that she was near tears with a mixture of stress and happiness. Stress at the stuff most single mothers were stressed about, and happy because Ryuji had a friend. One who got good grades and encouraged him to study and stuff.

“So, what do you wanna play?” Ryuji asked, dumping his backpack on the floor.

“Whatever’s fine,” said Akira, following his lead and dropping his backpack carelessly. He sighed.

“You okay, man?”

Akira answered with another tired sigh, then looked away because Ryuji looked so worried all of a sudden. He was supposed to be good at setting people at ease.

“Is this about Ann?” asked Ryuji. “She seemed down, too.”

“Let’s pull out your kotatsu,” said Akira. “So we can turn off the heater and save your mom some money on the gas bill.”

That distracted Ryuji for the two minutes it took to get the thing out and get comfortable. Give or take the extra twenty seconds it took Ryuji to get down to his thin undershirt, because he liked his chest and arms to be cool and his feet to be warm.

“So, what happened with Ann?” he asked, after they were under the blanket.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said Akira, taking out his phone to at least pretend to check his messages.

“Fine, whatever,” said Ryuji. “You wanna talk about anything, then? The Metaverse, Mementos, anything? I know I’m not smart-”

“You _are_ ,” interrupted Akira, sounding annoyed rather than encouraging. “I’m serious!”

“Then tell me what happened with Ann!”

“I promised her I would keep it to myself," said Akira, surprised about how dejected he sounded.

He wanted to tell Ryuji, to be the one venting for once, but he _had_ promised Ann to keep his mouth shut.

“Look, she already told me you guys hooked up," said Ryuji.

"Great, so she gets to talk about it."

"Dude, don't be like that," said Ryuji, punching his shoulder lightly. "You know this'll make you look cool and her look like a slut."

"See, you _are_ smart," said Akira.

"Haha, asshole," said Ryuji. "Seriously, dude. What the hell is the problem? Just talk to her."

"I will, alright?" Akira sighed, rubbed his eyes, and then sighed harder. "I'm tired of- _people_ , not to name names, telling me how great I am while not wanting to be seen with me in public."

"Dude, who the hell is _people_?" demanded Ryuji. "We hang out with you all the time, even Makoto."

"And I get it's not even about me half the time," said Akira, ignoring the question. "I'm just. . . Can't I just be pissed for like a day? I'll get over it, I always get the fuck over it, but can I have _one_ day?"

"Dude, what the fuck did Ann _do_?"

Akira sighed loudly. "It's not about Ann."

"Then what is it?"

"Let's just drop it, okay?" Akira was much better at listening than talking, anyway. "I'm gonna talk to her later; she has to drop off Morgana."

"So, you guys like a couple now?" asked Ryuji.

"If she wants," shrugged Akira.

"You don't care even a little bit, do you?" Ryuji tilted his head, but there was no judgment in the question.

Maybe that was what prompted Akira to be honest. "I'm not gonna be her dirty little secret, but other than that? I can be her boyfriend or fuck-buddy, or whatever."

"I guess you would say that," said Ryuji, "since you got like twenty girls halfway in love with you."

"Ten," said Akira.

"You motherfucker," said Ryuji, wrapping an arm around Akira's neck to put him in a mock-chokehold. "Ann's my grade school friend, alright? I'm like her brother - don't go bragging about potential side pieces to me."

They play-fought until Ryuji's mom knocked on the door to ask what the noise was all about, then settled under the kotatsu and played with their phones. Akira opened the Nav app out of sheer boredom and went to the section with all his confidants. Ten girls. Well, women, if he counted his homeroom teacher, the local doctor, the journalist, and the fortune teller. Kawakami, Takemi, Ohya, and Chihaya. All accomplished adult women who would get into a romantic - no, an outright sexual - relationship with him with a few well-chosen phrases on his part. He doubted they all had a kink for gangly Japanese teen boys, no matter how hot he supposedly was.

Which meant it had to do with his weird powers.

He'd been avoiding the issue all year. Akira was horny, but a goody two-shoes deep-down. The idea of getting women via magic roofies didn't sit well with him, and there was no reason that, if these alleged powers were real, he wasn't using them on his classmates, as well the older women. Circumstances had changed, though. For all he knew, getting laid on a regular basis - or just under the right circumstances - would make him more powerful in the Metaverse. After the disaster in Shido's palace, and the man's subsequent election, he needed every edge he could muster.

Also, the stress was making him hornier than usual, in all honesty.

He scrolled down his options, wondering if Ann had been the best option to try this. She was a member of the Phantom Thieves, and if their romance went south, it might fuck up the entire team’s dynamic.

"So why Ann, then?" asked Ryuji, as if he was hearing Akira's thoughts.

"I'll tell you if you promise it never leaves this room."

"Dude, I told you she already told me you guys hooked up," said Ryuji.

Yeah, but. . . "Did she also tell you she's the one who called me to her apartment and then waited for me in lingerie?"

"Uh, duh. You think I didn't ask for details?"

"Oh." Well, that was slightly unexpected. "So how did I do?"

“Not _those_ details, man!” Ryuji rolled his eyes. “She just said she’d been thinking about it and decided she wanted to do . . . it, and you’re like, _you_. But then you got upset because she wanted to keep it a secret, and why didn’t you just _talk_ to her today?” He waved his phone under Akira’s nose.

So Ann had been texting him, then.

“Like I said, I’ll talk to her when she drops off Morgana.”

“Whatever, man,” said Ryuji, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head. “This is not what I thought I’d be dealing with this week.”

Akira looked over at him.

His nipples were pebbled in the winter cold, so they were clearly visible through his thin undershirt.

Akira wondered if he would like him playing with them as much as Ann had seemed to.

Then he frowned at himself and looked back at his phone screen. Ryuji couldn’t read his thoughts or anything, but Akira had just gotten laid like thirty hours ago. Shouldn’t the random sleazy thoughts be getting better?

Well, now that he had decided to become sexually active (for the sake of the mission, of course), he needed to review the candidates. In case Ann told him to take a hike. The chances of that were low, but it didn’t hurt to strategize. He looked back down at his list of confidants.

Three could be discarded immediately: Yoshida for being old enough to be a grandpa and Shinya for being a grade schooler.

Sojiro? Absolutely not. It would be more like banging his dad than banging his _actual_ dad.

Iwai and Sae Nijima just weren’t interested in him that way, though either of them would be interesting.

Igor and the twins? Like the inhuman version of Yoshida and Shinya.

Morgana was a talking cat.

Mishima? Age-appropriate, human, and pretty enough. In an ordinary kinda way. But he was already a stalker, and Akira had been more distant with him than any of his confidants.

Hifumi seemed like the proper type. Getting her into bed would be a project, and though he was certain he could pull it off and she was really pretty, he just didn’t feel particularly romantic about her. He’d try his best to treat her well and would be faithful, but it wouldn’t feel real. Also, her mom was all about image, so she would probably have a stroke and then report Akira to the police if she ever noticed that her precious daughter was gallivanting with some juvenile thug. In short, too much drama.

Kasumi? Where to even start with that mess? She was hiding something. Not even from Akira, or anything to do with the Metaverse. Just. . . Akira sensed a wall from her, and demons lurking behind it. He would push it, but he liked Kasumi well enough. He had no idea if the wall was good for her or not, and no idea who to ask about it. She seemed to have a crush on him, but he would rather not get involved further. His life was already enough of a shitshow.

His eyes passed over Akechi, stuck at level nine. Nope, he was not going to think about that. Akechi was dead, anyway.

Which left the Phantom Thieves.

Ryuji? Akira suspected he was straight. Or close enough to it. Deep down, he knew that wouldn’t matter. That Ryuji loved him and would want to make him happy, and the rest was just nerve endings. The flattery alone would get him. He didn’t want to risk fucking up his simplest, most comfortable relationship, though. Ryuji got him in a way almost no one else did, teased him about how he could be a dick sometimes. Called him out on his bullshit, basically. The only other human who did that was. . .

Nope. He was still not going to think about it.

Yusuke? The idea had potential. Akira couldn’t verbalize what Yusuke’s deal was about social interactions in general, nevermind romance or sex, but Yusuke was just so _pretty_. And could be convinced to do almost anything for the sake of art. All Akira would have to say is some bullshit about getting in touch with his carnal urges to better understand the practical role of sexual energies in human passions and Yusuke would be game for almost anything. It just felt shitty to play him like that, though. Yusuke could be so innocent, if in a douchey way.

So that left the girls.

Haru? Akira recoiled at the idea. She seemed to _already_ be in love with him, and he didn’t know how he’d managed that. He just spent time with her, listened to her vent, and even tried to make some shitty jokes about her situation once he realized that she was looking at him like he’d just waltzed out of one her shoujo mangas after absorbing all the roguish charm from the hero of a Western detective novel. It didn’t help. No matter what he said, she always took it as a good-natured joke. If anything, Akira worried that it would break her heart once the rumors about his new girlfriend started. Whether it was Ann or anyone else.

Makoto? Also, no. She was a serious person, the only person he’d ever met who was more of a workaholic than him. Akira would bet a good deal of loot that whoever ended up as her boyfriend would get roped into studying as much as she did. If the goal was to get laid, she’d likely be the type to be too anxious to do anything while there were responsibilities to handle. And since there was always shit to do for a school council president, he’d probably never get laid.

Futaba? Bordering on too young, and already a little too reliant on Akira for emotional support, nevermind how much she teased him about being a weirdo. That was just her way of communicating. Plus, there was the complication of her being Sojiro’s daughter.

He went back to look at the older women. They would want to keep it a secret, on account of no woman wanting to be known as the pathetic lady who could only get a high school student. Also, it would be illegal. But Akira had already decided he didn’t want to go skulking around just because his girlfriend was embarrassed of him.

Out of their own accord, his eyes landed on Akechi. Stupid, as Akechi was a boy, which wouldn’t be a deal-breaker if he wasn’t also crazy, his attempted murderer, and an actual murderer. And also dead.

“Dude, why are you glaring at your phone?” asked Ryuji.

“No reason,” said Akira, putting it away. If he could make this work with Ann, there wouldn’t be a need to agonize about it. He turned to Ryuji. “Shouldn’t we be studying?”

“What, for all the high-end job offers we’re gonna get after we graduate?” asked Ryuji.

“Just because they’ll say we’re uneducated scum doesn’t mean we have to be,” said Akira. “Come on, get the books.”

They studied history, which was Ryuji’s best subject apart from biology, provided it was presented to him like a story rather than a random amalgamation of dates and names in a particular order. His mom made them noodles for dinner, packed with protein and spices, smiling warmly as she served them. Some of the tension left Akira’s shoulders, and his initial anger at Ann’s reluctance to go public, so to speak, seemed a little unfair. Even without the whole thing with Kamoshida, she _was_ a model, with social media sponsorships and everything. For all he knew, she was more worried about her job than what idiots at school would think.

He left a little earlier than he would have, nodding at Ryuji when he mentioned Ann. One way or another, the whole thing would be resolved that very night. He texted Ann and headed home.


	2. Chapter 2

On the ride back to Yongen-Jaya, he caved and listened to political news on his phone. Shido’s term technically had yet to begin, but already, he had a “transition team” laying out all the laws and projects he had in mind for “public safety”. They harped on about law and order, and cyber criminals taking advantage of the internet’s “unnatural anonymity” to take the law into their own hands without fear of accountability. The Phantom Thieves, in other words. Though, Akira noted that no one mentioned them by name. They sure kept talking about annoying trolls saying mean shit under kids' pictures, though, and how nice it would be if there was an easy way to reveal their identity so they would face social consequences for their actions.

So that wasn’t gonna end well.

At least it seemed like Shido had come down with some kind of pneumonia, which Akira hoped was just an excuse and Shido was still nursing some psychological wounds from the beating they’d given his shadow and the aftermath of the destruction of his odious palace.

 **> >>Ann**  
I just got to Leblanc’s

 **> >>Akira**  
Almost there

Despite the moment of zen he’d reached at Ryuji’s, he still felt his heart skip a beat. The possibility of botching the upcoming conversation was very real. Best-case scenario, Ann would agree to be his girlfriend without much fuss. He’d be satisfied if she just wanted to go back to the way things were: him following her to her modeling assignments occasionally to watch the ridiculous drama between her and her self-appointed rival, Mika. Worst-case scenario, he would let his temper get the best of him, the one he suppressed near effortlessly most of the time, and she would cry and call him a bastard. The drama would bleed over into his main social group and fuck up his life further.

Ann waited for him at Leblanc’s corner table, the one close to the stairs. She nursed a steaming bowl of curry, Morgana curled on the table in front of her untouched plate. Still dejected then, but she was scratching behind Morgana’s ears and smiling a little sadly at whatever he was telling her.

“Hey,” Akira said, as he approached their table.

“Hey,” said Ann, a little hesitantly.

“About time you got back,” said Morgana, long black tail swishing back and forth. “It’s not proper to keep a lady waiting, you know.”

“You’re right,” said Akira, chuckling and reaching to scratch Morgana’s ear.

His fingers brushed Ann’s, and she blushed all prettily and looked away. Morgana could only resist purring for a few seconds. Once the dam broke, he got up to rub himself all over Akira’s jacket. He could protest all he wanted, Akira would bet that he _was_ a cat, or whatever passed for a cat down in Mementos.

“You wanna go hang out with Futaba tonight?” Akira told him, hoping that he would get that the suggestion was not actually a suggestion.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Morgana. “You better be a gentleman to Lady Ann!”

“I’ll be whatever kind of gentleman she requests,” said Akira. The joke was a bit of a risk.

Ann did blush almost as red as her tights, but her laugh sounded genuine. He was calling that one a win.

Though there were no customers at Leblanc’s right then, Ann asked to go up to his attic. His mind took that as a sign that she still trusted him, and his dick took it as a sign that he might get laid if he played his cards right.

 _Calm down_ , he told his own dick, while Ann looked around the attic as though she hadn’t been up here dozens of times before. This was the first time she’d come with him alone, so it was fair that she was walking around as though exploring enemy territory.

“You kept this,” she said, standing in front of the bright red, generic calling card poster he’d hung over his used couch.

“Yeah,” said Akira, not remembering who had given it to him, or when. Or even if he'd bought it personally. He took a step closer to her, looked at the sleek top hat and mask on the poster, ones that looked so much like the one Joker wore. _TAKE YOUR HEART_. The English grammar didn’t look quite right, but it wasn’t Akira’s best subject. “I might have to take this down.”

“Uh, why?”

“You’ve heard the news, haven’t you?” asked Akira.

“Kinda,” said Ann. “I’ve been trying not to obsess about it.”

“Never mind, then,” said Akira, sitting down on the couch. There was no need to burden her with his sneaking suspicion that Shido was planning to blame The Phantom Thieves for some bullshit, or just position them as a symbol of all political opposition to Shido’s agenda. It’s what Akira would do, if he was an evil mastermind politician. Anyone could be a Phantom Thief, couldn’t they? And if the public was convinced that Phantom Thieves were a threat, then no one would ask too many questions if a Phantom Thief was quietly removed from the equation.

He bet Akechi’s death had thrown a wrench in Shido's plans. As far as they knew, there was no one else - besides the Phantom Thieves - who could access the Metaverse and change someone’s cognition. Or murder them.

Ann sighed and sat down next to him. “Listen. I wanted to apologize about yesterday.”

“It’s okay, I. . .” He couldn’t make himself say he’d overreacted. “I should have been more understanding.”

“When I asked to keep things between us, I didn’t mean like _forever_ ,” said Ann, looking down at her hands. “Just until we know that it. . . works.”

“Until what works?”

“I mean until you know you actually want me,” Ann rushed out.

“But I do,” said Akira. Not just because of her looks, either, though that certainly was a plus. A very big plus. Hanging out with Ann was easy and fun, like a weird fireworks show. She took him to photoshoots, went on and on about fashion without expecting him to have much of an opinion, and then took him to eat junk food. She was too good to be true. “Really, I _do_. If you want me.”

“But you could have anyone,” said Ann.

 _Because of my weird powers_ , he didn’t say. It would open a can of worms he didn’t want to deal with privately, much less with a girl who might one day decide that he had tricked her. Instead, he reached for her hand and waited until she decided to wrap her slim fingers around his.

“Most guys who could have anyone would have you,” he said.

A true statement, but he was not necessarily “most guys”. He’d only said it because he knew it was just the thing that would make Ann’s heart burst in her chest. She let out a little gasp, looked up at him with wide eyes, and Akira knew he had her. It was a creepy thought he couldn’t really control; in fact, he kept going. He leaned down, letting his eyes flutter shut, and kissed her.

It was supposed to be a sweet kiss, but it wasn’t long until Ann pulled on his lapel and licked at his lips. He respected and sympathized with that level of horniness, and would definitely indulge her to the best of his meager abilities, but first. . . “Wait.”

 _Oh my God, I hate you,_ cried his dick. Had Mara taken over his groin or something?

“Oh, we can tell everyone,” said Ann, quickly. “I’m over that.”

“Oh.” Well, great. “Let’s do it- Wait, I didn’t get condoms.”

“I brought some!” said Ann, reaching into her pocket.

“Oh." Akira was pretty sure he couldn't use his weird powers to get her to do that. Probably. "With Morgana?”

“Well, I didn’t explain what they're for,” said Ann, putting a pack out on the table. “I didn’t know your. . . uh, size. So.”

“I don’t either,” admitted Akira, noting with some amusement that the smallest size was still a large. “We’ll figure it out.”

It turned out he was an extra-large in one of the brands, which probably meant average of some kind. Ann giggled at some joke he made it about it, not that he was paying attention to what he was saying. She'd said yesterday that she was afraid it would hurt, and he didn't know how to ensure that it didn't. Fuck, why was he supposed to be excited about being with a virgin again?

It turned out he shouldn’t have worried. The most awkward part was lining up, but he slipped inside with minimal effort. Ann was tight, but slippery and warm, wonderfully eager. Just as much, if not more, than Akira himself. Maybe all that stuff about sex hurting girls was meant to dissuade them from doing it in the first place. It sure sounded like the kind of shitty thing that the world would do.

He got through by focusing his attention on her, the gasps and shudders, the rhythm that made her tighten her grip on his curls. Grabbing her thighs to hike them higher around his waist and straightening a bit to change the angle of his thrusts made her babble at him English, and it was probably for the best that he couldn't understand her very well. He tried to decipher the words to distract himself from how tight and how hot she was inside. It helped ground him, as did her nails excoriating down his arm when he worked up the courage to thrust harder.

She said something, but he only caught his name before he came and half-collapsed on top of her. Blissful silence washed over him for a handful of priceless seconds, until she nudged at his shoulder. He blushed, mumbled a quick apology as he moved to the side, hesitantly reaching between her legs. Had she even come?

"I got it," she panted, slapping his hand away.

His eyes flitted from her hand to her face, blushing furiously. It was hot, though also vaguely humiliating that she had to that herself. Motivation to work on his stamina, he supposed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, after she shuddered and cried out.

"Don't worry about it," she breathed, back falling back on the futon. She bit her lower lip, then fixed her bright blue eyes on him. "Actually. . ." She blushed and looked away. "How long until you're ready to go again?"

"Ah. . ." Well, he would need _some_ time. "I mean, do you want me to try with my mouth?"

Ann giggled. "You have such pretty lips."

That was probably a yes.

It was an interesting experience, not an intensely erotic one like having her hands on him or being actually inside her, so he could focus on actually being good at it. That should be the lesson - Ann didn't need breaks like he did, that was just basic anatomy. If he got her off right with his finger and mouth, then it wouldn't matter so much if he couldn't keep his cool during the actual fucking.

 _I'm gonna be a natural at this,_ he thought, as he felt Ann shudder and heard her moaning.

He tried to keep count of how many times he made her come, though he couldn't be sure it was accurate without outright asking her. Eventually, she mumbled at him to stop, cuddled up next to him, and fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

Akira smirked to himself, satisfied at a job well done. He felt an odd mixture of relaxation and triumph, like he'd just finished a hundred pull-ups in record time and then took a tranquilizer right after. And he'd done it without resorting to gross thoughts, like last time. No thoughts of Akechi intruding, for once.

Until that very moment, of course. The memories of the little bastard rushed back to Akira: his soft voice, the manufactured shyness in crowds, and the soft reddish hair that Akira had obsessed about and gotten to touch only once.

 _You're not even thinking about fucking him right now,_ something inside Akira pointed out in a snooty tone.

_Yeah, I'm pining after my dead murderer's pretty hair. Leave me alone._

That being said, he should not be mentally cheating on his new girlfriend.

Ann had said that she intended to stay the night, a stark reminder that, much like him, she had no adults looking out for her. Akira hugged her close and promised himself that he would do his best to watch out for her. The vague sense of guilt that assailed him didn’t make sense. It wasn't like she had any way of knowing about his pathetic, hopeless. . . whatever about Akechi. Who was dead, regardless. He hadn’t lied to her or pressured her into anything, and he did love her. Kind of. Not like in the dramas that girls liked so much, but that wasn’t real, anyway.

Hell, his own parents barely liked each other, and they were fine. Kind of. They’d both certainly been on the same page about exiling Akira from the family.

“You wanna go to the mall?” Ann asked him the next morning, as he pulled on his clothes.

“Sure,” he said, without so much as glancing at his phone. He’d have assorted invitations to hang out, but Sundays were for girlfriends. “Let me send Futaba a message so Morgana knows where I am.”

The morning went by as comfortably as ever, further easing Akira’s vague sense of dread. It would work. Ann would go about her business, him trailing her as calmly as ever, and he’d get to have a girlfriend. As far as he could tell, his sexual awakening or whatever had not boosted his powers in any discernible way, but fine. He couldn’t disappoint Ann, so he would continue having sex with her. For her sake, of course.

 _It’s normal to want a girlfriend, okay?_ Great, now he was arguing with himself. He just didn’t like getting overly attached to things, and that had been before his family kicked him out of the group chats. Just. . .

“Oh my God, Akira! Look at this!” Ann called out, gesturing at a mannequin wildly.

“That’s a sweater,” he said, nodding.

“It’s not _just_ a _sweater_ ,” she said. Then went on a happy sermon about the designer, who apparently was friends with her mom and super sweet, and it was so great that her clothes had made it to stores.

Akira nodded at the right spots, then followed her into the store. He scrolled through his messages while Ann talked to the sales clerk, stopping at a missive from Mishima about another potential target in Mementos. A girl talking about intentionally passing on an STD to unsuspecting boys? Goddamn. It seemed like sex really was taking over Akira’s life.

“Akira, I need you to start wearing red,” Ann said, as he considered what to say to Mishima.

“Okay?” said Akira. He wouldn’t wear red if not for his school uniform, but it was obviously Ann’s favorite color.

“Oh, your boyfriend is totally cute,” said the clerk.

Akira smiled at her, though she was probably just trying to sell more crap.

“I know!” said Ann. “Mika’s gonna be so jealous!”

“What?” asked Akira.

But Ann wasn’t listening to him.

He spent the next few hours letting Ann dress him up. He couldn’t actually afford any of the clothes, but he’d been at the mall with Ann enough to know that she didn’t intend to buy most of the things. He’d worried about wasting the clerks’ time earlier in their friendship, but apparently, trying on multiple outfits was the normal thing to do if you wanted to look hot, which Akira didn’t really care about. Fashion didn’t mean much to him, but it was really important to Ann. He supposed he’d have to make more of an effort to look like someone a model might date. Still. . .

“Does my jacket need to be red?” He’d be visible from outer space.

“Yeah, it’s a little much,” agreed Ann, looking him up and down.

“I have an idea!” said the clerk, then walked to the back of the store.

“Oh, this is so exciting,” said Ann, grinning. “Mika’s gonna get so jealous she’ll vomit.”

About that. “Why?” He hadn’t bothered to stay informed about Ann’s rivalry with that other model, and he had to catch up if he was somehow in the middle of it.

“Because I have something she can’t copy,” said Ann.

“If you mean me, I’m pretty sure she’ll find some gangly boy to follow her around and do her bidding in no time,” said Akira.

Ann giggled. “Oh, you’re so great,” she said, kissing his cheek. “You have no idea how hard it is to find a hot boyfriend who isn’t trash.”

Akira had some idea, but he wasn’t about to turn down a compliment. The clerk came back anyway, holding a dark burgundy leather jacket that was still a little much for Akira’s nonexistent tastes, but sure. He would wear this if Ann wanted him to. Then he saw the price tag.

“Fuck no,” he said, momentarily forgetting about the clerk. Hanging around Ryuji so much was affecting his vocabulary. “Sorry, I mean this is out of my price range, but thank you.” He had loot left over from their last trip to Mementos, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said the clerk. “This is on the house. Having Ann-chan wear our styles is payment on its own.”

“Ah, okay.” Technically, he was gonna be the one wearing it, but sure. If they wanted to waste their money, then he would gladly assist them.

It took until Ann dragged him outside to a well-lit corner and started fixing up his coat to realize what had happened.

“Your first sponsor, technically,” she said. “Do you have an Instagram?”

“I think,” said Akira. His old friends had gotten him one as a lark back home, but he wasn’t much for social media.

“That’s fine,” said Ann. “We’re posting this on my account for now.”

It occurred to him, while Ann fixed up her makeup, that modeling would be one of the few careers where his dumbass criminal record would not be an insurmountable obstacle. Hell, it could probably be an asset, depending on what image he wanted to cultivate. But he was getting ahead of himself. Though he might have a nice enough face and was relatively fit, there were millions of boys in Japan who looked just like him. Not to mention, the moment Ann turned her phone’s camera on them for a selfie, he felt himself shrinking like the ugly wallflower at a ball.

“Come on,” said Ann, pulling his arm around her waist. She slipped her head under his chin and angled her body into what he considered an awkward pose, but she was the professional. “Look up at the camera and smirk - not like you’re crazy, come on, Joker. You can do better than that.”

Yes, he could. Quickly, he grabbed Ann’s phone and put it up higher. He tightened his grip around her waist and smirked, the way he would have down in Mementos when trying to intimidate a shadow.

“Perfect!” said Ann, grabbing her phone.

She showed him the picture, but he smiled and nodded without actually looking at it. Ann could put that up on her Instagram if she wanted. It was only tangentially related to him.

“How about ‘me and my new bf trying out the latest winter fashion’?” said Ann.

“Sounds great.” So she really had decided to go public, then. It’d certainly be too dumb to cry about privacy after the tantrum he’d thrown before.

“Wink emoji, heart emoji, hashtag-slife-of-france-fashion. . . Akira, what’s your Instagram username?”

“I have no idea,” said Akira, vaguely alarmed at how quickly the whole thing escalated.

“Nevermind, found you,” said Ann. “Oh my God, you were so adorable in middle school!”

There were pictures of him from middle school in there?

Whatever, it was fine. It wasn’t illegal to take selfies with a girlfriend.

Ann couldn’t stay over that night, as she didn’t have a school uniform with her. That was for the best; Akira still had other things to do. Like respond to Mishima about the STD girl.

 **> >>Akira**  
I’ll handle it

 **> >>Mishima**  
Perfect; knew i could count on you guys!!!

Well, that was a quick response, considering it was a message from early morning.

 **> >>Mishima**  
Do you wanna see a movie?

 **> >>Akira**  
Sorry, I already have plans for tonight  
But Thursday, I might be going to the arcade with Ryuji

 **> >>Mishima**  
Okay, awesome let me know and I’ll def go with you

Okay, sure. He could always crash at Ryuji’s for the night if he felt like hanging out with him alone.

On the way back to Yongen-Yaja, he tried to think of a way to steer Mishima towards Phantom Thieves-unrelated interests. Or, at least, non-Akira-related interests. Mishima was such a lonely guy, to the point where he was easy pickings for opportunists. Like Akira himself. He’d tried to be nice to him, but would he have bothered to so much as note his presence if not for the Moon arcana? Was hanging out with him fun? Or was it the equivalent of a supernatural part-time job? Mishima was nice enough, but something about his neediness was very off-putting.

 **> >>Akira**  
Do me a favor?

 **> >>Mishima**  
Sure, anything!

Goddamn it.

 **> >>Akira**  
Do some research about propaganda in authoritarian countries

 **> >>Mishima**  
Seriously????

Yes, a heavy, complicated topic. Akira would have to look into it himself, but maybe it would be in Mishima’s best interests to try and expand his horizons, or something. At the very least, it might make talking with him more interesting.

 **> >>Akira**  
Yeah  
It’s research for a job

 **> >>Mishima**  
Okay cool  
I’ll get to it right away

Akira just wanted to sleep. He refused to think about how Mishima had just agreed without asking for more details. He’d just asked the guy to read some stuff. Nothing worth making a big deal over, especially not when Monday was coming at him like a truck. Who was he to judge, when he almost always went along with what his friends wanted?

For once, he managed to get a seat on the train and so spent the ride back home texting with his confidants, going back and forth to his calendar to avoid accidentally double-booking himself. Kasumi wanted to hang out, but again. That weird wall thing he felt. He was extremely curious, but too concerned about her safety to push it. Akechi’s rampage was testament to what his strange powers could do.

Their strange powers, rather.

Akira fancied himself some kind of bumbling, magical therapist, using his instincts to make people better. If it made him more powerful, then that wasn’t his fault, was it? Except he wasn’t necessarily making people better, just more useful to him. Mishima seemed happier but was still glued to his phone, waiting for Akira to give him a task. What would happen if Akira tried to ghost him? And he was just the most obvious example, too. What would happen to _any_ of his confidants, if he ghosted them?

Akira sighed. He was in too deep. All he could do about Mishima, at least for the time being, was _not_ ghost him. He told Kasumi he was too busy, determined to keep his distance with the people who weren’t too entangled with him yet.

Feeling too drained for much else, he decided to spend the evening helping Sojiro clean up the store. The news droned in the background, and he couldn’t not pay attention. Shido had made his first appearance since his landslide win at the polls, looking like the perfect picture of the sage Japanese father and promising a “return to our nation’s core values”. As far as Akira could tell, those core values didn’t leave any room for people who stepped out of line even once, no matter how justified their reasons.

“He’s full of shit,” Sojiro said, glaring up at the old TV. “I swear, I don’t know what glory all these politicians are talking about.”

Akira hummed in agreement as he tied up a large garbage bag.

“So the hot American spent the night yesterday, huh?” said Sojiro.

“Yeah,” said Akira.

“Well, do right by her,” said Sojiro. “That girl is way out of your league, so don’t waste the opportunity.”

“Uh, I won’t,” said Akira, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d half-expected Sojiro to say something gross, but it seemed like the man’s womanizing days were a thing of the past.

He spent the last few hours of his evening crafting infiltration tools. Morgana was still with Futaba, probably waiting for him to text that he was done with Ann. He considered it; he hadn’t been on his own since spring, when he and Ryuji ran into Morgana in Kamoshida’s castle. The silence was a little strange, downright uncomfortable, but necessary. For some reason he couldn’t conceptualize; something hovered just beyond Akira’s grasp. The key to a puzzle that he didn’t even realize he was supposed to solve. Not to be all dramatic about it.

He went to sleep before Morgana returned with a knot in his stomach. Another meaningful dream was on its way. It hit almost immediately after he lost consciousness: the melancholy opera singer of the Velvet Room. Akira opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling, exhausted.

“Inmate!” cried Caroline, banging her baton against the bars of his cell. “Our master wishes to speak with you.”

Akira sighed, wondering how long until the twins barged in and electrocuted him.

“Inmate,” came Justine’s softer voice.

“I’m coming,” said Akira, sitting up. A wizened old man probably would have had an easier time struggling to his feet. The cold metal of the ball and chain wrapped around his ankle chafed in a way it hadn’t since spring.

“You’re troubled, Trickster,” said Igor.

“A tad,” said Akira, leaning on the bars. “What would happen to my confidants, if something happened to me?”

Igor’s mismatched eyes seemed to glow, and his grin spread wider. “A better question is, what would happen to you, if something happened to your confidants?”

Well, Akechi _had_ died, and literally nothing had happened to Akira. Minus the feeling of abject failure that had come over him since, but that probably had more to do with Shido weaseling out of his just punishment.

“There’s a price to your power, Trickster,” said Igor. “One that I fear you have not given due consideration.”

One of the twins tried to say something, but Akira couldn’t figure out what, much less which one. Something dragged him back to consciousness, like a hook pulling him out of syrup. He fought as hard as he could, until his heart pounded him awake. His mother’s ringtone. Akira scrambled for his phone, certain that someone must be dead, because why else would his mother be calling him on a cold Monday morning?

“Mom?” he said.

“Akira!” she yelled. Angry, not sad.

Akira fell back on his bed, almost on top of Morgana, who must have returned in the middle of the night. He reached over to scratch the back of his ears while his mom ranted at him about how he was supposed to be focusing on school, not gallivanting around Tokyo with foreign sluts.

“Wait, what?”

“That girl from the _website_ ,” hissed his mom.

Which was how Akira learned that people back in his old high school were still using Instagram, and thus, noticed that their reject delinquent classmate had hooked up with an American bikini model in Tokyo. And that his father would have disowned him over it, if he wasn’t already disowned over the assault charges.

“Ann is not a bikini model, Mom,” said Akira. “She’s a high fashion model. Her parents are famous designers.”

“Akira Kurusu, do not talk back to your mother!”

“Oh my God,” he said, with a tired sigh.

“Are you in Tokyo for school, or for _fornicating_?”

“Mom.” Fucking Mementos give him patience. “My grades are fine; I’m in the top ten percent in a class of hundreds.”

“You’re not number one!”

He wondered, very briefly, what Akechi would say to such bullshit. Not the fake one, but the psycho who’d tried to murder them in Shido’s palace.

“Well, that’s true, Mom,” said Akira. “I’m not literally the best student in my class of, again, hundreds of students.”

“Maybe you would be, if you weren’t wasting your Sundays taking pictures with some. . . floozy! What if she gets you into trouble with the police?”

“You know it’s not illegal to have a girlfriend, right?” Maybe he should get a boyfriend next time. He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the mental image of his dad having to listen to gossip of his son fluttering his eyelashes at like. . . Iwai, or some other, shadier yakuza man.

“Just because it’s not illegal doesn’t mean that it isn’t improper,” hissed his mother. “You should look for a proper Japanese girl.”

“Ann is Japanese,” he said. _Come on, Mom. Tell me how you really feel._

“You know what I mean!”

“And how many _proper Japanese girls_ are lining up to date me?” Akira pushed off his blanket, avoiding Morgana’s gaze. Technically, there was Makoto. And Kasumi. And Haru and Hifumi. But Akira wanted _Ann_.

“Akira, listen-”

“No, it’s time for _you_ to listen,” said Akira. He didn’t need them anymore. Sojiro wouldn’t kick him out on the street, and even if he did, Akira could make plenty of money in Mementos. “I brought shame to the family, okay? I’m a piece of trash criminal now. And trash criminals don’t care about what their moms think of their girlfriends.”

“Akira-”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long day of taking trashy selfies ahead of me.” He stabbed the touch screen to hang up the phone, like she could hear him, then almost threw it against the wall. “I sure hope there are no customers downstairs.”

“Well, it’s rush hour on Monday, so I’m pretty sure there are,” said Morgana.

Excellent. Great start to his day.

His mom tried to call him a few more times on the way to school. He just messaged her _I’m not breaking up with Ann, so get over it_. And then he blocked her number. What could they do to him? Disown him more? Good. His father hadn’t talked to him all year, and his mom only to remind him that he was a disappointment. His brother, who was busy working in Yokohama, occasionally remembered Akira was alive and sent him half-encouraging messages to hang in there.

He met Ann in the hallway, smiling for the first time that day when she waved at him.

She pecked him on the lips, unconcerned with the sideway looks they got.

Akira smirked.

“First post was a total success!” she said, holding his hand.

“I heard,” said Akira.

“Oh?”

“Turns out some of my old classmates still follow that Instagram account,” said Akira.

“Oh, cool,” said Ann. “Well, my friend said they’re getting inquiries about the jacket.” She patted his shoulder.

Which reminded him he was wearing it. Well, what was he supposed to do? Own _two_ jackets? He didn’t have time for that, so he’d donate his old one to the church in Kanda.

During class, Kawakami called the teacher for a faux-surprise teacher conference. He could have used that time to craft more infiltration tools, but instead, he went through the trouble of downloading the Instagram app and recovering his old account password (thankfully, he used the same email for everything). Time to see why his hometown was losing its shit.

Well. . . it was fine? He didn’t look like himself, but only because he actually looked kind of cool. His dark hair looked tousled rather than unkempt, and the light glinted off his lenses, hiding the fact that his eyes were the usual boring shade of black. The stupid jacket was barely visible. Ann drew his eyes a lot more, unbelievably gorgeous as she was. His mom should be congratulating him. The camera was kinda looking down her cleavage, which he had not done on purpose, but she’d posted the picture, so it was probably okay. He kept looking, blushing when he noticed that he’d slipped a thumb under the hem of her pants, just below her belly button. Nothing was visible, but it was. . . suggestive. He didn’t remember doing it. Any of it. It was like someone else had taken the picture.

Whatever. Ann was fine with it - happy, even. He refused to have a meltdown over some Instagram post. As a matter of fact, he deleted the app immediately.

Ann had some modeling stuff to do, something high-end that didn’t allow tag-alongs, though she did want to bring Morgana for an idea she’d had. Something to do with the cat’s amazing, blue sclerae. That worked out fine for Akira, since he wanted to hear absolutely nothing about fashion for at least twenty-four hours. He considered going up to the roof to help Haru with her garden, but she’d have heard of his thing with Ann by now, and he’d rather avoid the inevitable awkwardness of it all for a little longer. Maybe he had said something to get her romantic hopes up, just to ensure that his powers kept increasing.

He met up with Ryuji, intent on forgetting about that for the moment. Playing darts was fun, and he was sure it made them all stronger in the Metaverse.

“Dude, what the hell?” said Ryuji, gesturing at his jacket while they waited in line to play darts. “It’s been like a day, and Ann is already dictating what you wear?”

Akira shrugged. “Wouldn’t you wear whatever she wants if she was your girlfriend?”

“I’d probably wear whatever she wants now,” admitted Ryuji, while they picked out their darts. “I thought you’d be less whipped than the rest of us, is all.”

“Don’t overestimate me, Skull,” said Akira.

They went over to their board, laughing and joking. Akira watched him play, proud of how much more accurate he was getting, certain that it’d make him less likely to miss in the Metaverse, where Seiten Taisei’s lightning strikes were vital.

“Nailed it!” yelled Ryuji, when he hit the bullseye for the third time in a row.

Akira went to high-five him, grinning. Their palms made contact.

And something exploded in Akira’s chest.

He almost blacked out, and would have fallen to the floor if Ryuji hadn’t been there to hold him up.

“Akira? What’s wrong?”

He swallowed, took a reedy breath, and gestured to the chair. A fine tremble went up his arms, down his spine, chilled him down to the tips of his toes. His heart wasn’t beating. That was crazy, he would die, but _his heart wasn’t beating_.

“Akira?”

“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded as though it was coming from miles away. “I’m fine.”

“Dude, I don’t think so,” said Ryuji, dark eyes brimming with concern. “You need water? Like, one of the things from the Metaverse? A doctor?”

“A doctor,” said Akira.

“Okay, okay,” said Ryuji, ready to spring into action. “I think there’s a hospital nearby, probably.”

“No, I know a doctor,” said Akira.

“Of course you do,” said Ryuji.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Akira. He usually made a point to keep his confidants away from each other, Phantom Thieves aside, but. He didn’t want to be alone.

Ryuji, bless him, didn’t try to talk on the way back. He stuck as close to Akira as possible, close enough that they got some weird looks at the station and on the way back to Yongen-Yaja. Fuck them. Akira didn’t bother to resist the urge to lean on Ryuji’s shoulder. The world was spinning on its axis, and he was afraid to think too much about why that might be.

“This way,” said Akira, grabbing the sleeve of Ryuji’s jacket to lead him to Takemi’s clinic.

They had to stop on the way there to give Akira a chance to vomit in a corner. He glared down at the bits and pieces of noodles he’d had earlier, heaving as the acid took over his mouth.

“Dude, maybe we should take you to a proper hospital,” said Ryuji.

“No,” Akira gripped his forearm. “We’re almost there.”

Thankfully, Takemi was in, and the clinic was almost empty. She noticed something was off the moment they stumbled into the waiting room, which was good. Akira had a feeling he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer.

“Hey, we need help,” said Ryuji. “My friend is- He’s sick.”

“I can see,” Akira heard Takemi saying. “Help him into the exam room. Takara-san, I will see you in a week.”

Black spots danced in the corner of Akira’s eyes. He didn’t protest when Ryuji slipped an arm around his waist. “I know where. . .” Fuck, he couldn’t even get the words out.

Ryuji got him into the room, somehow. Helped him get on the bed. The light hit his eyes and worsened his nausea.

“What happened?” Takemi’s voice asked him.

His tongue was too heavy in his mouth.

“I don’t know,” said Ryuji. “We were playing darts. He was fine; we were joking. And then he grabbed his chest and got white as rice paper. He threw up on the way here.”

“Okay, I’ll take it from here.” Someone started unzipping his jacket.

Akira forced himself to open his eyes, though he could barely see. He fumbled around until Ryuji grabbed his hand. Forced his neck to cooperate and turned to look at him. “Don’t go,” he gasped, once he spotted Ryuji’s bleached hair.

“Of course not, man.”

Finally, Akira passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I'm still on Twitter?


	3. Chapter 3

The opera singer woke him up, gently, like his mother passing a hand over his forehead when he was young. Back when she liked him. Akira squeezed his eyes shut, intending to go back to sleep.

A baton struck the bars of his cell. Made him flinch as though it hit his ribs.

“Inmate!” yelled Caroline. “Get up!”

Just how did his life get to the point where a demonic grade schooler was bullying him?

“It is time, Inmate,” came Justine’s soft voice.

“I’m getting up,” said Akira. At some point, he’d decided pissing off Justine would be too dangerous, and he wasn't the backtracking type.

At least he wasn’t nauseous anymore, though the world still seemed tilted on its axis. Before Caroline banged on the bars again and gave him a migraine, Akira struggled to his feet. The ball and chain felt heavier than ever, but he took the steps necessary to look Igor in the eye.

“It seems you’ve swerved on the road to rehabilitation, Trickster,” said Igor.

“Get fucked.”

Caroline slammed the bars so hard it lit electric sparks. Akira took his hand off the metal, heart pounding.

Even Justine looked furious. “Mind your tongue, Inmate,” she said in her soft voice, “if you’d like to keep it in your mouth.”

“My apologies,” said Akira, slowly laying a hand on the bars. As a sign of trust. Or something. He looked over at Igor’s mismatched, bloodshot eyes. “What happened to me?”

“You’ve neglected your confidants, it seems,” said Igor.

Bullshit. Not that he could go on cursing, under the circumstances. “I haven’t. I talk to all of them; I’m using a scheduling app for it.” He could barely take a shit without receiving ten messages with pleas about inane fucking problems. “They’re all. . . They’re stable.” Except for Akechi, but he was _dead_.

“If you say so, Trickster,” said Igor, clearly unconvinced. “Since this is a first for you-”

“What is?”

Caroline banged on the bars, perilously close to his fingers. “Don’t interrupt, Inmate. Our master is doing you the honor of offering you assistance that you do not deserve after your shameful outburst.”

“Right,” said Akira, with a short bow. Time to grovel. He had no cards to play against these beings. “Please allow this unworthy one to ask, what happened to me?”

“As I was saying,” said Igor, with a chuckle. “Since this is a rather traumatic first for you, I will allow you to take refuge here, in the hallowed chambers of the Velvet Room.”

“Thank you,” Akira forced himself to say.

Caroline glowered at him, and Justine pointedly refused to meet his gaze. Great. He’d gone and hurt the demon twins’ feelings. Fine, then. Their confidant bond leveled up when he fused their personas, so they could be pissed at him if they wanted. He drew the line at appeasing literal demons who didn't even seem to know his name.

Sighing, Akira stumbled back to the bunk bed. In the background, the opera singer continued her soft melody. And was that a piano in the background? He ought to be thankful that his subconscious hadn’t summoned death metal. Assuming it was his subconscious creating that sound.

The next time he opened his eyes, he found Ann looking down at him.

"You're awake," she whispered, as though afraid to believe it.

"Yeah," he said, taking stock of his surroundings. There was some tape wrapped around his index finger, with a wire connecting it to a monitor that tracked his heart rate, among other things that Akira couldn’t interpret. Something was at 100%, which could only be a good sign.

Takemi's clinic. He squeezed Ann's hand as he sat up, looking over at the couch where Ryuji, Yusuke, and Futaba were huddled, all three asleep. Ann's bag wriggled and out came Morgana, hissing.

"What _happened_?" demanded the cat. "Ryuji's downright incoherent."

The ruckus woke up the rest of the team, much to Akira's annoyance. They hovered around him, all trying to ask their questions at once. Apparently, Ryuji had freaked out after Akira passed out and alerted the group chat. Makoto and Haru couldn't get away from their respective duties, but they definitely had time to bombard the group chat. Akira skimmed through the messages, embarrassed. There were even pictures of him lying on the clinic bed, mouth partly open.

There was also a picture of the monitor, followed by a lengthy discussion about what the numbers meant, according to Google. Futaba got information from the official health websites, scribbled notes on the pic of the monitor to identify the labels. Makoto and Ryuji argued about whether he had excellent blood pressure and resting heart rate for his age, on par with professional athletes, or if he was at death's door. Yusuke said that he looked like "the embodiment of the essence of a repose warrior". And then posted a picture of an impressionist sketch that Akira had apparently inspired. Thank every demon in Mementos that it looked nothing like him.

Akira felt mostly okay now. If only he hadn’t been with Ryuji when. . . well, whatever that had been. If only he'd been in his room, snuggled in his own futon.

"Sorry, man," Ryuji told him. "I just didn't know what to do."

"It's fine," said Akira.

"But what _happened_?" shrieked Morgana.

Loudly enough that Takemi came into the room. Which was good, because Akira had no idea what the fuck had happened, just that it had something to do with one of his confidants. Damn the cryptic beings of the accursed Velvet Room. All the Phantom Thieves were accounted for, though, so he could afford to calm down while Takemi asked him some questions and did another physical exam.

“Okay, brats,” said Takemi. “We’re going to need a few minutes.”

“Why?” demanded Futaba, much to Akira’s surprise. He’d have expected her to be the last one to speak up. “What are you gonna do to him?”

“Excuse me,” said Takemi. “I’m a doctor.”

“Well, you look like you just stumbled out of an unreputable bar,” said Yusuke.

Right. Takemi dressed like a goth stripper from the fifties. At her clinic.

“It’s fine,” said Akira, not in the mood to litigate the appropriateness of Takemi’s work attire, “they can stay.” It would save him the effort of summarizing her diagnosis for them later.

A few questions in, Akira wished he had asked for some privacy. Takemi wanted to know about his diet, bowel movements, sleeping habits, dreaming habits, _sexual_ habits (which was a superfun exchange with Ann sitting right next to him). He answered everything as honestly as he could, eager to get the ordeal over with so he could go back to the attic and lick his wounds. Then, Takemi asked him to take his shirt off so she could examine him, and there was no way she wasn’t doing that just to embarrass him. She damned well could listen to his heart and lungs through his shirt.

“Sure,” said Akira, waving the hand with the wire thing. “Can I take this off?”

Why did he go through the trouble of keeping shape, if he was going to chicken out at being shirtless in front of people for like five seconds? If he complained, it might lead to another argument, and he just wanted to go home. Futaba made a whistling sound when he pulled his shirt over his head - so much for all that social anxiety bullshit. Yusuke hummed and did that framing thing he did with his fingers, so Akira should probably brace himself for a request to pose nude for some paintings. Other than that, it was quick enough. Just Takemi laying the stethoscope on his chest and back and poking around his belly a bit. She even said he could put his shirt back on when she was done.

“I’ve drawn your blood and sent them to the reference lab for a basic metabolic panel,” said Takemi, “but I don’t expect anything will be out of the ordinary. Physically, you’re in excellent shape.”

“Then what happened?” asked Ryuji.

“Most likely? A panic attack,” said Takemi.

“No,” said Akira, before he could think better of it. “It wasn’t that.”

Ann grabbed his hand, in a show of comfort, while gazing at him with concerned eyes.

“It probably had to do with the Metaverse,” said Morgana.

“Haven’t you been under a lot of stress lately?” asked Takemi, mildly. “With your exams, and such?”

“A human doctor won’t be able to figure this out,” said Morgana. “Just agree with her and let’s get out of here.” By the couch, Futaba glanced up at Ryuji, as though he could give her some answers.

“You could say I’ve had a lot on my mind,” said Akira.

“Yes, and the winter cold has been dreadful,” said Yusuke. “My hand joints lock up when I try to paint.”

“You need to take better care of yourself, my little guinea pig,” Takemi said to Akira, trying to sound gentle, but now he would have to explain away that _pet name_. Did she think that because his friends were kids, they were stupid?

Mercifully, they all seemed too distracted by his “panic attack” to dwell on that bit. Ryuji, Yusuke, and Futaba all returned home, but Ann followed him back to Leblanc after announcing that he shouldn’t spend the night with only a cat for company.

That triggered a mini-argument between her and Morgana, who took the comment as a slight on his honor as Akira’s caretaker. Morgana being his “caretaker” was news to him, but he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

“You can both take care of me by not arguing about this,” he said.

They both huffed at that, but cut out the bickering.

Honestly? Akira would rather send even Morgana off and hole up in the attic by himself for the next six months. Or at least for however long it took him to open the Nav app and check on his confidant list. No need to have a fight about it, though. The list would still be there after Ann and Morgana fell asleep.

Sojiro was waiting for him at Leblanc with a steaming bowl of soup paired with tea and the most constipated air of concern about him. “I figured coffee and curry might be too much of a stimulant if you had an upset stomach.”

“They told you,” sighed Akira.

“Futaba wanted to go out all of a sudden,” said Sojiro, rubbing the back of his neck. “Something big had to have happened.”

“Did you call my parents?” asked Akira, shuffling over to the soup. He was actually hungry, despite everything.

“No, I decided to let you decide to tell them or not,” said Sojiro, wiping his hands on his apron. “If you want, you can use the rent money this month to pay the doctor.”

“Oh, I can lend you some of my allowance too, if you need it,” added Ann.

For a horrific moment, Akira’s eyes filled with tears. If he cried in front of them, he might honestly have to kill himself. “Takemi’s not gonna charge me,” he said, then picked up the spoon to distract himself. “It’s really not that serious, what happened. It just caught me by surprise. There’s no need to tell my parents.”

“What _did_ happen?” asked Morgana.

Akira sighed and petted him, unable to answer even if they were alone. He’d never told even Morgana about the confidants. Or even the Velvet Room.

The soup and tea did help; he was glad that he was able to reassure Sojiro with that much before he headed out for the night. Even Ann relaxed a little after he got more animated, though she still put on fuzzy long pyjamas and settled for kissing his cheek before bed. Akira considered trying to fool around for maybe a second, then a wave of exhaustion came over him again. Morgana was around anyway, and he would get what was happening if Akira tried anything. Akira hoped he would never again sink to such pathetic depths that he’d be _relieved_ that a sentient cat was making it impossible for him to have sex with his hot girlfriend.

Ann fell asleep quickly, huddled close to his chest. It was nice, the warmest he’d been all winter. Though sleep still escaped him, Akira wished he could just stay as he was forever, feeling her even breath against his neck, with the cat curled up somewhere by their feet. He imagined that they’d met under different circumstances - maybe he’d gone into fashion accounting (sounded like the boring shit he’d naturally gravitate towards, and his dad would have turned up his nose at it, anyway), met Ann at some photoshoot when they were both adults and got together then, without the shadow of his bullshit criminal record, or the Metaverse, or Akechi.

Although, Akechi hadn’t done much to Ann directly. Just. . . tried to kill her. But in a totally impersonal, you-happen-to-be-in-the-way type of situation.

Well, he clearly was more unbalanced than he realized if he was trying to convince himself that Akechi hadn’t been _that_ much of a shithead.

Moving as gently as possible to avoid waking Ann, he reached over to grab his phone. Ann snuggled closer and went perfectly still after a few seconds.

 _Now or never,_ thought Akira, and opened the Nav app.

Nothing seemed to happen. The red-black UI stared back at him, with a smirking Joker in the background. The guy really didn’t look like Akira in most pictures, at least not anything close to the way Akira imagined himself, but since the other Phantom Thieves had no problems with Joker. . . Well, Akira didn’t know. It was probably creepy to think of the Joker as though he was some different person, but it wasn’t like human language had evolved to describe the feeling of entering a magical world and becoming an unbelievably cool superhero.

But he was stalling, thumb hovering over the confidants tab. Better to get it over with.

Once again, opening the list was severely anticlimactic. There they were, the people who were giving him strength, without even realizing it. Ryuji, Takemi, Sojiro, Ann, Mishima, Yusuke--

**DECEASED**

And there it was, on the spot where Toranosuke Yoshida should be listed. The Sun arcana.

“Fuck,” Akira whispered to himself.

He tapped on the entry, hoping for some kind of explanation. The app added summaries of their interactions, which so far had been extremely helpful for the times he agreed to meet them and didn’t remember what their deal was. But everything just screamed **DECEASED** now. Even Yoshida’s picture was gone, replaced with a stylized skull stamp, and that would be just _hilarious_ if it wasn’t so fucked up. Yoshida had been fine just last week. Akira had met him and helped him go over another one of his political speeches. How had he gone from giving Akira pointers about public speaking with a broad smile on his face to **DECEASED**?

Short of getting up and waking Ann and Morgana, rushing to Shibuya (the closest spot he knew that let him enter the Velvet Room), and making demands of Igor and the twins, there was nothing else he could discern. The Nav app had no further information for him, and if he tossed and turned too much, he’d definitely wake up Ann.

By the time morning arrived, he’d more or less managed to get his shit together. Enough that Ann took his reassurances about feeling better at face value, which was more than he’d expected with how everything had been going to shit lately. It was a slow day for Leblanc, so he got a chance to brew coffee before school while Ann futzed around with one of the hand-mirror things girls used to fix their makeup. She complained about not having all her stuff, but she looked as good as she ever did to Akira. He told her as much, but she just snorted and called him clueless, which. . . well, it wasn’t wrong. He shrugged and went back to brewing.

With any luck, he’d be able to make enough for a trip to Mementos that afternoon. Earlier, Mishima had messaged him two more names for people to go after down there: a fast food worker who was spitting on the Big Bang Burgers he prepared (gross) and a tutor who was purposely teaching grade schoolers wrong information because she’d dropped out of the top percentile in her class. Akira usually waited until they had at least five targets to visit Mementos, but he was stressed out. And he wanted to assess just how much Yoshida’s alleged death had affected his powers.

“Okay, look over,” said Ann. She took a selfie with him in the background, holding a cup of coffee. “Excellent, you mind if I post this?”

“Sure,” said Akira, vaguely annoyed. Not enough to complain about it. If Ann thought a selfie with him looking lost in the background was good for her Instagram, then whatever. At least she asked before posting. Except. . . “Don’t your parents follow you on that?”

“Yeah, and?” She didn’t even look up from the screen.

“Won’t it be obvious you spent the night with me?” asked Akira, trying to sound neutral. Which he personally was; he just didn’t want to deal with more family drama.

“Oh, Mom and Dad know about you,” said Ann. “They just asked me to be safe and use protection.”

That was certainly better than a hysterical phone call about the family honor and his not-perfect-enough grades. Akira’s mom could use some of that American freedom at the moment.

“And Mom says you’re hot,” added Ann.

“Tell her thanks for me,” said Akira, instead of asking if she knew of his criminal record.

Morgana hopped into his usual spot inside Akira’s bookbag, and they were on their way. The previous day’s meltdown faded to the background, or tried to. Akira could not let it pass. He texted Ryuji that he could use some help in the afternoon, after Ann said that she had another photoshoot with Mika lined up and needed to focus.

“I’ll see you tonight?” asked Ann.

“You don’t have to,” said Akira. It looked like the trip to Mementos would have to wait. “I’m meeting up with a shogi player I know tonight, and Ryuji after school.”

“Oh, great,” said Ann, relieved. “Shiho and I wanna do a virtual movie night.”

“You don’t have to hang out with me all the time just because we’re dating now,” said Akira. In fact, he would have to call it off if she expected that. “We’re both busy, so let’s just block out Sunday nights for each other from now on. Would that work?” It would for him, if Yoshida had really died.

“Yes, that’s a great idea,” said Ann, kissing his cheek. “We can always meet up more, if we have time.”

On the steps to Shujin, Akira’s phone rang, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s my dad’s ringtone,” he told Ann, when she looked at him with a question in her gaze.

“Oh,” she said. Then she pecked him on the cheek again. “I’ll give you some privacy, then.”

Akira still considered dumping his phone in the nearest trash can, but it had the Nav app and his schedule on it. He sighed, stepped towards a side bush with hunched shoulders, and answered the phone.

“Hello, sir.”

“Did you block your mother’s phone number?”

“Yes, I did,” said Akira. And he didn’t think he’d be able to muster a fake apology about it, either.

“Unblock it,” said his father. “I’ve spoken to her, and she will not bother you about this American so-called girlfriend of yours.”

“You did?”

“I’ve spoken to Sakura-san, and he tells me your grades are not suffering,” said his dad. “As long as you don’t neglect your studies, you’re free to indulge in all the youthful womanizing you can manage.”

“Okay,” said Akira.

“Honestly, the girl looks completely out of your league,” mused his dad. “If she asks you for money, end it.”

“Dad, I’m pretty sure she’s rich. You want to know how much successful models get paid?” She certainly had the means to get clothes and jewelry without his help.

“Good for you, then.” He hung up the phone before Akira could fully process what was happening.

Akira glared at his phone in complete befuddlement. Should he be glad that his father was not only an asshole, but also assumed that Akira was an asshole too? Regardless, it kind of worked out in his favor, though a part of him had hoped that an interracial relationship would be what prompted his dad to completely cut him off, giving him the excuse to tell his entire extended family to go fuck themselves. He sighed. If it came down to it, he had the option of making out with Yusuke on camera. In the meantime, he unblocked his mother’s number and headed to class.

Ann smiled at him as he came in, but their teacher was right behind him, so there was no time to talk. Good. She might forget to ask what his dad wanted altogether. Akira took out his notebook, and tried and failed to pay attention to the history lecture. He felt like he was forgetting something extremely important. Maybe he'd left the stove on, or there was a vital task he was supposed to accomplish. He looked at his phone under his desk, eyeing the Nav app with apprehension. His thumb hovered over the icon.

He got a message from Mishima before he talked himself into opening the app while the teacher droned on.

 **> >>Mishima**  
Another target  
Police officer in Shinjuku has been bullying those guys who wear makeup and giving them bullshit fines

 **> >>Akira**  
Okay

That got them up to three targets for a Mementos trip. Manageable. He'd let seven targets accumulate once, and it had worked out. Though they'd had Akechi on the team. . .

"Kurusu!" yelled the teacher, a second before throwing the chalk at him. It hit him on the forehead, and a couple of his shittier classmates had a laugh at his expense. “Pay attention!”

“Sorry, sir,” said Akira, sliding his phone next to Morgana and locking it. He was getting better at working the touch screen with his paws, but he still couldn’t get the password right. The phone vibrated. Another message from Mishima.

He could hardly deal with that while the teacher ranted about the disrespectful airs of the new generation. Fuck, but his patience for all this was wearing thin.

After school, he found Ryuji at the usual spot and had to spend way more time than he wanted reassuring him that he was totally fine. Really.

“But. . . I do want to look into what happened yesterday,” said Akira. And he better figure it out today. Dumping Morgana with Ann again had not been easy.

“Okay.” Ryuji followed him to Shibuya in merciful silence, all the way to Shibuya Central Street.

That was why Akira liked him so much - Ryuji knew when to be quiet and listen, not out of deference, but out of self-preservation. Like a predator out in the jungle with quick reflexes, even if he wasn’t the fastest, strongest, or smartest. He didn’t interrupt when Akira asked the vendors at the square if they’d heard anything unusual about Yoshida, so it took less than an hour to find the owner of the dumpling cart that sold Yoshida’s favorite snack.

“It was so sad,” said the lady, while people passed them, bumping into them as they checked their phones. “Yoshida-san collapsed in the middle of one of his speeches. A heart attack, I hear. He always did struggle with his diabetes.”

“Yeah, very sad,” said Akira.

“Dude, who the hell is Yoshida?” asked Ryuji.

Akira sighed and looked at the time. Four hours until he had to meet Hifumi. “I’ll explain at your house.”

They bought dumplings before heading back to the train. Akira picked up one of the local newspapers and flipped to the obituary section, just to make extra sure. They had Yoshida listed, with a picture and everything. Someone had decided to write a nice note about how much time and effort Yoshida had dedicated to criminal justice reform. Ryuji read over his shoulder and sighed.

“I think I heard about this guy before,” he said. “My mom wanted to vote for him.”

She would, as Yoshida had held the deeply unpopular position that prosecutors should be more lenient towards juvenile offenders. A sad loss of a semi-decent politician, not that Yoshida would have come anywhere close to winning an election. Akira closed the newspaper and threw it out in the next trash can they passed. It was the best news he could have hoped for, under the circumstances. Yoshida hadn’t gone mad or suffered some violent meltdown. He doubted that the forces that generated the Metaverse (and his weird powers) were concerned with something as mundane as diabetes. Hell, Igor had talked like Yoshida wouldn’t have had a heart attack if Akira had been more mindful of their link.

Ryuji didn't ask questions on the way to his house, which Akira appreciated, since it gave him a chance to organize his thoughts. His mother wasn’t home, but she’d left enough food for the both of them and a note with some spare money in case they wanted to rent a movie or get some junk food. Ryuji didn’t say anything as he set the food out for the both of them, pocketing the money. He wasn’t the type to waste food, and it seemed like he had already sensed that whatever Akira was going to say would piss him off.

“You know what happened, don’t you?” he asked, after downing the last of his water in a gulp.

“More or less,” said Akira.

Ryuji looked at him and then stood up. “Let me clean all this up.”

Akira would have helped, but Mishima texted him a list of esoteric books and articles he’d been reading. It took Akira a few seconds to remember the research assignment he’d delegated to Mishima.

 **> >>Mishima**  
I just don’t know how to narrow this down😑😔

 _Ur-Fascism by Umberto Eco_ caught Akira’s eyes as he scanned the list. He vaguely remembered reading a translation of it at some point, though he couldn’t remember why or for what. Or even when.

 **> >>Mishima**  
What is it you’re looking for???

That was a good question.

 **> >>Akira**  
Read up on Carl Jung

 **> >>Mishima**  
What? Why????🧐🤯

Honestly? Akira was just grasping at straws, throwing darts blindfolded, whatever. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. That collective unconscious thing had to do with Carl Jung, right? Morgana said Mementos had to do with the collective unconscious, so it was as good a place as any to start. Mishima needed a mission, too. There was no reason he couldn’t do the initial legwork. He typed up a response as he followed Ryuji to his room.

 **> >>Akira**  
I’ll read over these  
Not sure what I’m looking for yet  
I’ll let you know when I know more

“Okay, so you gonna fill me in?” Ryuji asked, the moment he closed the door.

Akira sighed. Though, yes, he had decided to do that. If he spent one more minute going in circles around his own confusion, he would go crazy. Not that Ryuji would know more than him - would probably know even less - but his instincts told him it was time to get a different perspective from someone he trusted. He hadn’t gotten as far as he had by doubting his instincts. So Ryuji, then. Akira trusted him the most out of his entire social circle. But he had no idea where to even start.

“Come on, man,” said Ryuji. “The suspense is killing me.”

“It’s better if I just show you,” said Akira, opening the Nav app and going straight for the confidants tab.

Ryuji’s eyes widened when Akira showed him the list of confidants, but he didn’t say anything. His version of the Nav app looked different; Akira had checked it personally. No confidants tab. He stayed quiet when Akira took the phone back and slipped it in his pocket, just raised his eyebrows and listened quietly to Akira’s stilted explanation about how he could find special people, listen to them, get them to trust him, and then, it would grant him some powers in the Metaverse. Not just for him, but for the Phantom Thieves. He tried to be as honest as possible, though he couldn’t help but emphasize that he was trying to help these people, too. The Phantom Thieves kept getting stronger, right? Hadn’t Ryuji noticed that sometimes, in the Metaverse, he took hits that should render him unconscious?

Sometimes, he took hits that should have rendered _Akira_ unconscious, but he hoped Ryuji wouldn’t connect those two points.

“So, let me see if I’m following,” Ryuji said finally. “There’s this place called the Velvet Room, where a hook-nosed old man with a pair of creepy warden twins let you fuse powerful Personas, so long as you’ve gotten special people called confidants to trust you with their darkest secrets. And also, the more secrets you collect, the more special powers you get, including but not limited to: higher endurance, speed, and something you’re calling ‘persuasive powers’ to intimidate demons. Or get them to join you. Which you can then take to the Velvet Room to execute so you can summon stronger Personas.”

“. . .That’s a pretty good summary, yeah.” How come he was the only one who could see how smart Ryuji was?

“And you’ve been doing this since the Kamoshida clusterfuck.”

“Yes.”

“And this politician Yoshida was one of your confidants.”

“Yes.”

“And when he randomly died yesterday of being diabetic or whatever, you felt like _you_ were dying,” said Ryuji, looking off into the distance. “But you didn’t know what was happening because you don’t actually know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Well, I mean. . .” Akira hummed, a little insulted. “I know what I’m doing a little bit.”

“Does Morgana know about this?” asked Ryuji.

“You’re the first person I’m telling,” said Akira.

“Dude, what the fuck?” demanded Ryuji.

Akira tried not to wince. He’d hoped, deep down, that Ryuji would think the whole thing was cool.

“That thing said Ann is the Lovers, or something,” said Ryuji, growing more agitated. “Holy shit, did you hook up with Ann because you wanted more superpowers?”

“No, I got Ann’s boosts months ago!”

“Dude!” yelled Ryuji. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

“Yes!” It was a little creepy, sure, but Ryuji was exaggerating. “Look, I don’t think the arcana thing means anything.”

“The what?”

“The arcanas,” explained Akira. “The Chariot, The Lovers, The Sun, The Emperor, et cetera."

Ryuji stared at him, mouth hanging open

"I googled it," Akira explained, trying for a placating tone, "and it has to do with Western tarot readings. I think. It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh my God,” Ryuji sagged, dropping down on his folded futon, “I need a fucking drink.”

“You don’t drink,” said Akira.

“I think I should start.” Ryuji rubbed at his eyes. Made a frustrated groaning noise.

“Look, I know how it sounds,” said Akira. “But I was doing it to help people. You were there the entire time, saying we should infiltrate palaces and expose evildoers. You think we’d have gotten far without my powers?”

Ryuji ignored that. “How many confidants do you have?”

“Twenty,” said Akira.

Ryuji’s eyes widened, almost comically so.

“Nineteen now,” said a Akira, in a futile attempt to placate him. “Well. . .” He stopped talking. Stopped _breathing_. Almost slapped himself. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Ryuji said wearily.

“Ah. . .” How the fuck had it taken Akira a whole day to think of this? He looked at Ryuji.

“Dude, seriously. What the fuck did you just figure out?”

If Akira could get some time, he could come up with a lie that Ryuji would believe. Coming clean had been a mistake. He would have figured this out on his own eventually, while scrolling through his confidants list.

“Akira, tell me what’s happening or I’m opening the group chat right now and telling all our friends about this,” said Ryuji.

“Go ahead,” said Akira. He was bluffing. “I could get them all on my side.”

Ryuji gasped, as though Akira had just punched him. He looked down. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Get out.”

“No, wait.” What would be the point of that? He’d lose Ryuji and spend fuck knows how long smoothing things over with the rest of the Phantom Thieves, and the whole point of telling _someone_ was that he had no idea what to do anymore. “Look, I’ll tell you everything, for real. Just. . . try not to judge me, okay?”

Ryuji shot him a look of absolute disgust.

Fine. He’d get over it eventually. The confidant link _hadn’t_ broken, despite Ryuji’s anger. Akira was pretty sure that would be a deeply unpleasant experience for him, on a metaphysical level.

“So, I’m pretty sure Akechi’s alive,” said Akira.

“Why would-” Ryuji made an involuntary gagging noise. “Akechi is a confidant? Akechi?”

“It’s not like I get to pick them,” said Akira.

“Since when?” demanded Ryuji.

“June 10th,” said Akira. He only knew that because it was the day of their school field trip. It wasn’t creepy.

“So around the time we met him, basically.”

Exactly the day they met him. Akira shrugged.

“So the entire time you were supposed to be figuring out what was up with him, you were. . . what?” Ryuji smirked, and it did not look good on him. “Leveling up your confidant link, was it? You fucking nailed it, man.”

That hurt more than was reasonable, but Akira would be damned if he gave any sign of it.

“Did this link not tell you he was batshit?” demanded Ryuji. “Or did you decide to risk it?”

“That’s not fair.” They’d only known that Akechi must have been inside the Metaverse at some point, but none of them had guessed that he was a violent serial killer until the very end.

“Does he like love you now, or something?” asked Ryuji.

“Well, he shot me in the head, so it’s safe to assume that no,” said Akira, “he probably _doesn’t_ love me.”

Ryuji sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Look man, I’m sorry if I’m being a dick. This is just a lot to take in. I don’t know if anything about you is real.”

“You were the first confidant link I maxed out,” said Akira. He’d stopped getting good Metaverse returns on time spent with Ryuji a long time ago. The minute boosts to his battle skills weren’t worth it anymore, if he was being honest. “I still hang out with you, anyway.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?” asked Ryuji.

“Yeah, actually, you should be,” said Akira, because fuck it. The least he could get out of all this was not having to fake being the most selfless motherfucker on earth around Ryuji, at least. “I have eight confidants that need leveling up right now. All I’m getting out of _this_ conversation is a fucking headache.”

Ryuji looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. Shaped like Mara. Akira held his ground. He needed to get over this. No amount of hysterics was going to change the situation they were all in, and Ryuji would figure that out soon enough.

“You’re just gonna keep doing this, aren’t you?” asked Ryuji, looking down at his navel.

“I don’t think I have another option.”

Ryuji started chuckling to himself, and soon enough, he was downright cackling. Akira followed right along. The whole thing _was_ absolutely hilarious. Milking his relationships for metaphysical perks? There was a being behind all this shit with a bucket of metaphysical popcorn, giggling every time Akira made a stupid joke that one of his confidants found funny.

“You gonna be okay?” Akira asked a little later, when it was time for him to head to Kanda. Hifume was waiting for him.

“I guess,” said Ryuji, without looking at him. “I’m sorry if I overreacted or whatever.”

Akira frowned. His link with Ryuji was pretty strong. For all he knew, Ryuji didn’t really have the option of hating him anymore.

“I don’t think you overreacted,” said Akira. “There’s a reason I kept this to myself for so long.”

Ryuji looked at him, eyes wide.

“I’ve been a loner most of my life,” admitted Akira. “I liked my solitude. The truth is, I wouldn’t be spending time with most of my confidants if I wasn’t getting something out of it. I don’t even care that much that Yoshida’s dead, except I’ll probably have to look for another Sun confidant now.”

“That’s cold,” said Ryuji.

“That’s a mild word for it,” said Akira. “I think I can get rid of this power though, if I see this through.”

“See what through?” asked Ryuiji.

“I don’t know,” said Akira. “But at least I know where to look next.”

“Akechi,” said Ryuji.

“See, there’s a reason you’re my favorite.”

“Dude,” said Ryuji, blushing. “You’re just gonna let the creepy out every time we’re alone now, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan,” said Akira, just letting himself smirk, like the Joker would have down in Mementos. He really is that monstrous Trickster, after all. “Akechi’s probably hiding in the Metaverse, that piece of shit.”

“So you plan to, what, break your link thingie?” asked Ryuji.

The idea should have merit, but Akira didn’t like it. He wished he could blame it on vague possessiveness over his powers, but that wouldn’t be honest. Some of his confidants were annoying enough that it wouldn’t bother him if they broke, beyond the pain it would cause. Chihaya, he could do without. Shinya outright annoyed him. But the Phantom Thieves? They were too important. Most of the others too, even Mishima.

“Like, is it possible? Without hurting you, I mean.” Ryuji groaned. “Ask those Velvet Room people, maybe? They’ll understand. Who wants to be linked to some psycho killer?”

“No.” Akira wasn’t going to _break_ his connection to Akechi. Certainly not by asking Igor or the twins for help. “I’m gonna find the little shit and beat as much information out of him as possible. If that breaks our link, then whatever. Good riddance.”

“But that would hurt, wouldn’t it?” asked Ryuji. “Like with the Sun dude. You looked _bad_ , Akira.”

“It sucked, but I was only scared because I didn’t know what was happening,” said Akira, touched that, despite everything, Ryuji was still worrying about him. “Now, I know.”

Ryuji let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know if I can keep this shit to myself, man.”

“If it means anything, I _genuinely_ like the Phantom Thieves,” said Akira. “You all have your adorable quirks, most you are hot as hell, and best of all? You all think I’m great.”

“Awesome,” said Ryuji. “Make it sound more like we’re your pets.”

“I do have you guys ranked from best to worst across multiple parameters,” said Akira. Fuck, but it felt good to just say it out loud. “You’re at the top of most of my lists.”

“That’s it,” said Ryuji, pushing Akira out of his room. “You need to leave before I come to my senses and file a restraining order.”

Akira laughed. It would be fine. By tomorrow, Ryuji will have rationalized the whole thing away.

“I’m gonna come up with some bullshit to tell the rest of the team about how I figured out that Akechi’s alive,” said Akira. “You’ll back me up, right?”

“What, you think anyone’s gonna wait with baited breath for my opinion about whatever nonsense you come up with?”

Akira smirked. The nice thing would be to tell Ryuji that he shouldn’t underestimate himself, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t _impossible_ to say that. . . Makoto, for example, would take Ryuji’s word over Akira’s. But the odds were not in his favor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ryuji,” he said, with a broad smile.

That evening, hanging out with Hifumi gave him the power to switch out team members during battle at will. Hifumi looked happier than he’d ever seen her, so Akira couldn’t muster the energy to feel guilty about his ulterior motives. Most relationships were transactional anyway. His powers just made it more obvious.

When he scrolled through his confidant list before bed, he noticed that Yoshida had disappeared altogether. A pang of sadness hit him - Akira wasn’t a monster, even if he was a little more predatory than was normal. Yoshida had been a decent man, one who had just started looking at his golden years with some hope. At least he’d found some peace before the end.

His eyes landed on Akechi’s picture. The usual anger and disappointment did not wash over him. He was alive. Alive, and possibly plotting some unhinged revenge. Or maybe he was confused and dejected, ready to join the team for real. Akira could convince the other Phantom Thieves to accept him, even Haru and Futaba, he was sure of it. There was so much at stake, after all. He had been fantasizing about breaking the bastard’s nose earlier, but was that really necessary? Akechi was so _strong_ ; there was so much they could accomplish together if only Akira could persuade him to be reasonable.

Akira tapped on his picture to check if the Nav’s blurb about him had updated. It had not, but Akira understood what it was saying now. _Goro Akechi revealed his true self and disappeared into the Metaverse._ Disappeared into the Metaverse. Why the fuck had Akira interepreted that as “he’s dead”?

Well, there was no point in beating himself up about it. Mementos was easy enough to get to. Akira would find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm glad to have gotten this . . . whatever it is out in the world and out of my head. Had a lot of fun writing it and probably will write more for this fandom.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> All three chapters are written; just need time to edit them and make sure I didn't contradict myself too much. I might write a sequel if the mood strikes, but regardless, I'm actually satisfied with how I ended it.
> 
> My [twitter account!](https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273) I'm actually still talking about this game when I'm not complaining about losing my phone in my own bag.


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